


Oxygen to Breathe

by illyrilex



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Boys who rape should all be destroyed, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, PTSD, Rape Recovery, Recovery, Slice of Life, The angst kinda has a mind of its own, Trauma, Violence, You should really read the other two stories first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyrilex/pseuds/illyrilex
Summary: Post Much Like Suffocating; How Do You Sleep?: King tries to put the pieces back together after her horrific experience at the hands of Mr. Big's thugs. COMPLETE





	1. Alone Down There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm. Hey, you guys. So, I've had an idea for a follow-up piece to Much Like Suffocating and How Do You Sleep? for awhile, so, like, here it is. I have to warn you that this first chapter isn't for the faint of heart. Trigger warning for rape (subtext, you guys, subtext) and violence.
> 
> All characters are property of SNK. Also, King's name is (obviously) not canon; I'll retcon if it's ever revealed.
> 
> Onward~

King couldn't move or breathe. She was pinned under a man she had never seen before until earlier that afternoon, his weight and his hand around her throat keeping her down against the solid mattress. She only knew two things about him: the first was that he was sent after her by her former employer, Mr. Big, for something she had done _years_ ago, before she left Southtown's seedy underworld. The second was that he wanted to hurt her as badly as possible.

And goddamn was he doing a fantastic job.

King was battered, bleeding, and broken. Frustrated and desperate, she tried to use shaking hands to push the man away, but it was no use; he was too heavy and she was too light-headed and weak anyway. She welcomed the idea of losing consciousness; being awake for this was too much. If she could just pass out, then maybe it would somehow be more bearable.

Suddenly the man loosened his grip on King's neck; she let out a strangled gasp as she drew in as much air as she could.

"Tell me something, _Cécile_." He taunted King by using her real name, which he had found on her driver's license. "En français!"  
"Fou moi… la paix...!" King struggled to get the words out.  
"Not what I wanted to hear!" The man squeezed King's neck again, harder this time. "We'll try again in a minute!"

A plethora of thoughts ran through King's mind: some were directly related to what she was experiencing (how could this happen?!) while some were so far out of left field that she could barely even grasp them (she should have bought more yogurt at the store the other day). King opened her eyes, which she had been squeezing shut; everything looked hazy and discoloured. Her vision was slightly blurred; she wasn't sure if it was from her head injury or her tears. In all likelihood it was probably both. Nevertheless, she accidentally made eye contact with her attacker, which made her feel like she was going to throw up. Again.

"Let's try this again, _Cécile_."

The man released some of the pressure on King's throat: she was quickly overcome by a coughing fit that made everything hurt more than it already did.

"Tell me something a little _nicer_ this time."  
"Va... te faire... foutre --!"  
"Interesting choice of words."

King cried out as her air supply was violently cut off yet again.

On and on it went, a sick loop with no end in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I have some notes:
> 
> * Fou moi la paix means "leave me alone" but the meaning is slightly more vulgar. This info comes from a native French speaker who was nice enough to help me out.  
> * Va te faire foutre means "go fuck yourself"
> 
> I promise the rest isn't this upsetting, so, tune in next time? As always, let me know what's up. Cheers!


	2. Dramamine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope the first chapter wasn't too horrible. This is way less traumatic, I swear. As always, I'll explain some stuff and thangs at the end.
> 
> Onward~

King woke up with a start. She was on her back in her own bed, gripping her sheets and covered in sweat, her blankets tangled all around her. For some inexplicable reason one of her pillows was near her foot, and her face was wet from tears shed while sleeping. Her cat, Marron, was sitting on her chest, kneading his paws into her collarbone as he purred loudly.

"Hey," King muttered as she started petting her tubby little friend. She put her hands under the cat's front legs and gently lifted him off of her so she could sit up. Right away she grabbed her phone to check the time: she was awake four minutes before her alarm was set to go off. With a sigh, King disabled the alert: she wiped her eyes with the bottoms of her palms and collapsed onto her damp pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling as tears silently flowed.

It had been one month and two days since King was kidnapped by a couple of Mr. Big's underlings and violently assaulted as revenge for that time she betrayed the infamous crime boss and helped the Sakazaki family get its shit together. The days that initially followed the attack had been some of the worst, with the legalities of the situation hanging low over King's head. The DA pressed criminal charges, but there was a short period of uncertainty that revolved around whether or not there would be a trial. The idea of going to court was enough to make King physically ill. Thankfully, she had friends in high places: Detective Mary Ryan used every resource at her disposal to make sure the case was resolved through a plea bargain. (King had a feeling those resources included Mary's itchy trigger finger and tendency to snap bones like twigs.) Just like that the sentencing hearing had quietly come and gone, Big's men were put away, and King wasn't going to have to metaphorically bleed out in front of a room full of strangers.

Win.

However, in the grand scheme of things, it was only a small victory. King still had to cope with what happened to her, which was proving difficult in every sense of the word: She was barely eating and barely sleeping - and when she did sleep she usually dreamt about the event (or what she could remember of it) in vivid 4K detail. She told everyone, even her little brother, that she caught mononucleosis as a way to ensure that she wouldn't have to go anywhere or even talk to anyone. She hadn't left her apartment unless she absolutely had to, and her general disposition fluctuated between absolute apathy and absolute despair. She would spend way too much time in the shower each day, scrubbing and burning her skin under water that was too hot, and she would become anxious or irritable at seemingly random intervals. She periodically tried to self-medicate (after all, she had a healthy stockpile of alcohol, and Yuri had been kind enough to share some pot cookies) but an incident with Percocet and wine made her think better of it. If it hadn't been for her friends -- the few who  _really_  knew what was going on -- she probably would have accidentally overdosed on her pain meds or wasted away on her sofa.

On top of it, King felt immense guilt for how her experience was affecting those around her: depressive episodes, internal investigations, and rampant paranoia were among the things her friends had to deal with because of her. Not to mention the lying that went along with it. Those that knew about the incident promised to keep King's secret, which, while comforting, only made things worse: She didn't think it fair that they should have to lie to their loved ones for her.

King continued to stare up at the ceiling. She needed to get out of bed, but brooding seemed infinitely more appealing than getting ready for her first day back to work. She tried to convince herself that, perhaps, it would be good for her: Pour some drinks, interact with different people, maybe break a few noses or two if anybody got unruly. It could be grand.

...Or it could be a total disaster.

Before King could start thinking of all the ways everything could go wrong, the sound of Skype's whimsical chime issued from her phone. She turned on her bedside lamp, unplugged the gadget from its charger, and pressed the Accept button on the screen. She held it up so the caller could see her clearly. It took a moment for the video to connect, but when it did, the sight that greeted her actually made her smile. But only a little.

Mai Shiranui was one of the most beautiful women King had ever seen: She was the infuriating type who looked great from every angle, no matter the lighting or the time of day. Even with her chin scrunched in toward her neck so it looked like she had three smaller chins, and her lips puckered out, she still somehow managed to look amazing.

"Oh, Kingy," Mai instantly stopped making the weird face. "Another one?"  
"Yeah," King sniffed as she wiped her cheek.  
"Are you okay?"  
"Why on earth are you awake right now?" King abruptly changed the subject.  
"I can't sleep."

Mai said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. There was an edge to her voice that made King feel apprehensive: She couldn't help wondering if her friend's mood was swinging away from the depressive end of the spectrum, toward mania.

"I know what you're thinking, you jerk," Mai said playfully. "I'm fine! I'm just excited! Three more days!"  
"And then you'll be here for good, drinking all of my vodka."  
"Yep! I'm going to hang out at the bar all the time! Speaking of which, isn't it the big day?"  
"Uh-huh," King sat up and ran her hand through her hair. "Back to business…"  
"Are you ready for that?" Mai asked, serious.  
"Probably not, but I _have_ to be."  
"Kingy. If you're not up to it, then…"  
"It doesn't matter if I'm up to it or not. I've been out for a month with a bullshit excuse; people are going to start asking questions -- if they aren't already."  
"Just stick to the story and you'll do fine."  
"Everyone is just going to automatically assume we made out, you know."  
"So? Just tell them the 'truth': we used the same straw." Mai winked.  
"But if you were  _truly_  Patient Zero Andy would have gotten sick, too. And, everyone knows --"  
"Don't overthink it, Kingy! We talked about it before and it's _perfect_!"  
"I have to overthink it," King used her free hand to rub her forehead. "One slip-up and --"  
"And _nothing_! You have nothing to worry about! Just go in there and be yourself!"

King took a deep breath and puffed her cheeks out as she slowly exhaled. "I can't -- I don't know how to be myself. What does that even mean anymore?"  
"I don't really have a good answer, Kingy. You just have to try."  
"I… think I should go," King said after a moment of silence.  
"Kingy, I didn't mean --"  
"No, you didn't do anything. It's just..." King furrowed her brow. "Duty calls."

Mai looked doubtful. She adjusted her camera, concern all over her face.

"At least promise me you'll take it easy."  
"I will," King assured her with a wan smile. "I promise."

###

An hour later King stood in front of her bathroom mirror, fully dressed and made up for the first time since _it_ happened. She examined herself very carefully for anything that could potentially set off any red flags, but she appeared pretty unremarkable: The bruises on her face and neck were completely healed, however, the marks on her throat had been so severe that they left residual blemishes on some parts of her skin. Luckily her collar and a little concealer went a long way. She dabbed a bit of makeup on each imperfection, as well as on a small scar on her forehead. She tousled her hair just enough so that it would cover it completely before walking to the living room to finish getting ready.

King pressed her lips together as she opened the closet door. The mundane act of grabbing a pair of shoes was so strange; she could count the number of times she had worn them over the last few weeks on one hand. She sat down in a nearby dining chair to put them on.

"Marron?" She absently addressed her cat, who was curled up on the sofa across the room. "Wish me luck, okay?"

The cat curled up in a ball before stretching his back feet straight out.

King made a face. She stood up and picked up her keys and wallet from the counter, a little sad that she wasn't on the couch next to Marron. The silence of the apartment was suddenly broken by Weezer's  _El Scorcho_. King immediately took her phone out of her pocket and answered.

"Hey, Yuri. What's up?"  
"Hey! Are you at work already?"  
"No, I was just leaving." King paused. "Is everything okay?"  
"Yeah, totally," Yuri answered quickly. "I just wanted to wish you luck today. So… good luck!"  
"Thanks…"  
"Hey, you're still gonna come by, right...?"

King instantly deflated. The idea of going to the Kyokugen dojo to resume her regular sparring sessions with Yuri was off-putting -- as was pretty much everything. However, she knew she needed to move on with her life, and what better way to do that than to try to do things she enjoyed? Not only that, but if she wanted to make absolutely sure no one found out her secret, she was going to have to act as natural as possible, and if that meant kicking the absolute shit out of Takuma's training dummies, or even both Sakazaki siblings, she was going to have to go for it.

"Y-yeah. I just have to get my work schedule sorted out, and then I'll let you know what day."  
"Cool! Hey, don't worry," Yuri said, her voice full of kindness. "You'll do fine. Once you're back in there it will be like you never left."

King didn't know what to say next. She took a longing look at her sofa before reluctantly exiting the safety of her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go:
> 
> *I know PTSD dreams aren't exact, picture-by-picture, word-for-word recreations of the traumatic event, but who says the first chapter was necessarily what King was dreaming about? I know *I* never stated it. So, like, please don't call bullshit on me for my depiction of how this is playing out.
> 
> *I did a lot of research on criminal cases and courts and all of that stuff. In the state of CA (where Southtown is located according to KOF: Kyo), plea bargains can be banned if a super serious or violent crime is involved. However, there are three exceptions to this rule, one of which occurs if testimony from a key witness can't be obtained. I'm sure it was obvious in the text, but King couldn't handle going to court, and, so, her testimony was unobtainable. Plus, like, Mary has connections or whatever.
> 
> *Mononucleosis, commonly known as "mono", is a virus that is spread through saliva (or, yes, sexual contact, too), which is why it's commonly known as "the kissing disease." Symptoms are severe sore throat, swollen lymph nodes, and extreme fatigue. It takes several weeks to clear the system.
> 
> *The incident with Percocet and wine is a direct reference to How Do You Sleep?, where King is really, really drunk/high off of the combo, which can actually cause respiratory distress and death.
> 
> *King has an iPhone, whereas Mai has a Samsung, which is why Skype is being used instead of FaceTime or whatever Galaxy users use for video chat.
> 
> *Head-canon: Mai has bipolar disorder. There are two ends of the spectrum: major depression, or mania. Mania is the exact opposite of depression, but not in a good way. Google it.
> 
> *Mai is in Japan, which is sixteen hours ahead of California. So, let's say King is up around noon on a Saturday (which she is). That puts Japan time at four AM Sunday.
> 
> *The scar on King's head is from where she was hit with the gun (and later against the wall) in MLS, in case anyone forgot.
> 
> *The ringtone for Yuri (Weezer's El Scorcho) is a song about the lead singer's wife, who happens to be half-Japanese. The opening lyric is, "Goddamn you half Japanese girls, you do it to me every time..." Idk, I just thought it would be fun. Fight me.
> 
> Wow, that was a lot of notes - I didn't realize I had THAT many! Kindly let me know your thoughts and feelings, and maybe I'll see you next time! Cheers!


	3. Dukes Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! A new chapter! But, first, a quick word on the last chapter. See, I had this note explaining the reason as to why Yuri would possess pot cookies, but a kind reviewer (over at fanfiction.net) pointed out that it wasn't necessary. So, I thought about it, and decided that this person was absolutely correct, so that note no longer exists. I'm sure you're all heartbroken.
> 
> Anyway, this is another set up chapter. Apologies.

Dread washed over King as she stood outside of Illusion. The idea of stepping inside the bar was wrecking her shit, and it was stupid. She  _owned_  the place -- there was no reason for her to feel so out-of-sorts about going in, and talking to people, and just  _being_. However, she had the irrational feeling that everyone would see her and instantly know. They'd see it on her face, or in her mannerisms. They would all see how filthy and inadequate she really was; that she was a liar and --

King shook her head as she tried to erase the harsh thoughts from her mind. She knew it was ridiculous, which was part of what made it all the more maddening. She took another breath as she looked at the small building one last time. She pressed her lips together in a thin line before finally forcing herself to walk inside.

"Look who it is," an annoyed voice called from across the room. King smirked as one of the bartenders, Elizabeth, came into view. She looked aggravated -- as always.  
"Nice to see you, too."  
"Boss! How are you?! Are you feeling better?!" Sally, Elizabeth's identical twin, came bounding toward King, her face lit up with glee. She shoved a small bouquet of rainbow dyed roses into King's hands.  
"Thanks? And I- I am," King stammered, surprised by Sally's gift.

A big, fat fucking lie.

"I can't believe you caught mono! Who does that?!"  
"...me."  
"You know --" Elizabeth put a glass down and placed a hand on her waist -- "they call mono the 'kissing disease' for a reason."

King involuntarily tensed up. She hoped no one noticed.

"I told you, I caught it from sharing Mai's drink."  
"Is that  _all_  you shared?" Sally teased.  
"You  _did_  say you two got pretty drunk," Elizabeth added, an impish glint in her eye.

King felt her cheeks flush. The implication that her and Mai would do anything other than share drinks was really, really uncomfortable. And not just because of… reasons. She cleared her throat as she hastily walked away from the twins, to the office in the back.

"You're both fired," she called as she held up her middle finger. She could hear one of the sisters (probably Sally, because Elizabeth hated everything) giggling. King knew she was probably never going to hear the end of the mono thing, but it really was the best excuse she could come up with on such short notice. She stepped into the brightly lit room, which was completely ordinary, and immediately spotted several stacks of paper on the small desk: deposit receipts, receiving lists, utility bills. It all seemed pretty organized but King was going to have to comb through it all anyway. Being holed up in the back for a good chunk of her shift wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though: It would serve as a good way to ease herself back into her routine. Not only that, but she wouldn't really have to deal with people all that much. She placed the flowers on top of a filing cabinet before plopping down in the chair and wheeling herself in front of the desk. It was actually sort of nice to be somewhere other than her apartment or the doctor's office.

King looked at the clock on the wall: there were still thirty minutes before they opened. She planned to stick around until closing time, which, normally, wouldn't have been a big deal at all, but now that she was… different… it seemed like a tall order. What if something went awry? What if she saw someone who looked or sounded like…  _him_? What if somebody said the wrong thing? What even  _was_  the wrong thing? She had no way of knowing what would trigger her, or how she would react to said trigger, and it was intensely unnerving.

At that moment the door opened and Elizabeth walked in.

"I need Thursday off," she said curtly.  
"Okay. Done."

There was silence as Elizabeth looked King up and down, her expression unreadable.

"What?" King asked, uneasy.  
"I almost forgot what you looked like," Elizabeth told her as she left the room.

King scowled. Elizabeth probably knew something was up. Those icy eyes probably saw right through her and her idiotic cover story. She probably knew exactly how weak King really was, and it was only a matter of time before --

"Hey, Boss?"

Sally knocked on the door as she pushed it open. King sat straight up in her chair and swallowed hard.

"Yeah?"  
"You should come up front. Everyone misses you."  
"But we're not even open yet. Besides, I have to --"  
"I already took inventory and placed an order. The bills are paid up for the month and Lizzie went over all the numbers. Everything lines up, so there's really nothing else you have to do back here."

King looked from Sally to the desk, and then back to Sally again. She could always count on the twins to run the place in her absence, and for that, she was glad. However, their efficiency meant there was no escape: she was going to have to go out front after all.

"I'll… be out in a minute. Go ahead and open the doors early."

Sally nodded. She started to leave but suddenly whirled around to face King.

"Are you sure you're feeling better?"  
"I'm fine. I'm just not really used to talking anymore."

It wasn't an entirely dishonest answer.

"I can't imagine! What was it like? I've never known anyone who had mono before!"  
"Miserable," King replied. She quickly thought back to everything she read on WebMD and Mayo Clinic. "My lymph nodes were swollen, and my throat hurt so much I couldn't even talk. I was also really tired all the time."  
"But you're okay now?"  
"Still a little tired, really."  
"Well, hey, maybe a quick shot will help you feel better. Come on!"

King considered Sally's suggestion as she stood up. There wasn't a damn thing on the planet that could make her feel better but a little liquid courage would probably go a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot to talk about here but eh:
> 
> * Sally and Elizabeth are the twin bartenders that can be seen in the background of the Girls' Team stage in KOF '95. This stage is, in fact, Illusion, btw. Anyway, one of them often appears with King in opening and win poses in later games. I'mma say it's Sally because why not.  
> * I know that the idea of twins having totally opposite personalities is a little trope-y, but guess what? That shit is REAL. I have experienced it firsthand.  
> * Illusion's hours are 2:00 PM - 2:00 AM
> 
> That's all for now. As always, let me know what you're thinking! Cheers!


	4. All Night Diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A quick reminder that King's name isn't canon, though I would totally love it to be. Onward~!

By the time two A.M. rolled around King was legitimately exhausted. Finally alone, she locked the door to the bar and leaned back against it as she unfastened her bow tie and unbuttoned her collar, thankful that she made it through her first shift without any real issues. Aside from one somewhat disorderly patron, and a few brief moments where she came dangerously close to shrinking into herself, things had gone pretty smoothly. She was relatively certain that she had everyone -- employees and regulars alike -- convinced that her bout with mono was real, and that she wasn't completely dead on the inside. Hell, there were some points where  _she_  almost believed it herself.

...Almost.

King made her way to the office so she could count down the drawer and get Monday's deposit ready. She finished with lightning speed; the only thing left to do was lock up and go home. As King walked outside into the unusually warm night her newfound anxiety began to set in. The trek home wasn't a big deal: she only lived a couple of blocks away, and she was more than capable of defending herself should anyone try anything. At least, that's what she kept trying to tell herself, but the fact of the matter was that Mr. Big's men had successfully broken through her defenses once: somebody else could do it again.

King swore under her breath as she started in the direction of her building. She easily navigated the streets, walking past throngs of drunken bar hoppers. She kept her head down while trying not to give in to all of the negative thoughts coursing through her mind. Soon, she was far away from the clubs and restaurants: The well-lit buildings and merrymakers tapered off as she entered the more residential section of the city. She felt a pit beginning to form in her stomach as she found herself thinking back to a time when she was much younger, when Jack Turner and a couple of his gang mates had come after her. They were drunk and she was pretty -- a bad combination. That fight, and the almost-outcome of it, instilled in her a deep fear she had spent years trying to suppress. She was mostly successful, but her recent experience brought all of that bullshit screaming back to the surface.

As much as King hated to admit it, she was genuinely afraid out there.

Just then a dark, unmarked police cruiser slowly pulled up on the curb beside King. The window rolled down, revealing "Blue" Mary Ryan sitting in the driver's seat in all of her perpetually tired glory. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, but flashed a brilliant smile nonetheless.

"Get in, loser, we're taking you home."  
"Mean Girls?" King asked with raised eyebrows. She climbed into the car, relieved that her walk was cut short by a friendly face.  
"You know it. Buckle up."

King removed her vest and untucked her shirt before fastening her seatbelt.  
"How'd you know I --"  
"Because you're a creature of habit. Are you hungry?"  
"Not really."  
"When's the last time you ate something?  _Other_  than a spoonful of sorbet."  
"Hmmmmm..." King furrowed her brow as she realized she hadn't eaten an actual meal in a little over two days.  
"Okay, we're gonna go eat first."  
"Mary, I just want to go home."  
"And you can --  _after_  you eat something."  
"I can eat something at home."  
"Like what? A carrot?"  
"What's even open right now?"  
"There's that all-night place on 6th, remember?" Mary beamed. "Come on, it'll be good for you."

###

King halfheartedly stabbed at a rather large Belgian waffle as Mary watched her from across the table. The short car ride had been quiet except for the sound of the police scanner, but once the pair got to the restaurant Mary began unloading the details of a case she was working while she scarfed down a hearty breakfast meal. Meanwhile, a somewhat distracted King glanced around the small diner as she played with her food: It was oddly crowded for almost three on a Sunday morning. It was loud -- too loud, really -- and full of people, all lost in their own worlds, the din of their conversations drowning out the music that played over the speakers embedded in the ceiling. King found herself wondering if any of them knew what it was like to suffer. She also found herself wondering if she was being dramatic.

"You're not eating."

Mary's observation derailed King's dismal train of thought.

"I had… some."  
"Okay, but, like, you need to eat something and I'm paying and you shouldn't let my precious money go to waste, bro."

Those were all really excellent points. King forced herself to take a bite of the waffle; it was good, but she just didn't feel motivated to finish it. Instead, she started drawing little patterns in the syrup with her fork as an intense wave of self-loathing washed over her. Mary rested her chin on her hands and watched her intently, concern woven all over her freckled face.

"Are you okay, bb?"  
"That's a loaded question," King answered as she continued to draw little curly cues.  
"Okay, then I'll ask you something else, like… How'd it go today?"  
"It wasn't…  _bad_." A pause. "I mean… I've always been good at lying. It seems like people bought it."  
"But…?"  
"But what if I make a mistake somewhere along the line? Everyone will see that… that I'm...  _useless_ …! And  _repulsive_ , an -"  
"Hey! You are  _not_  useless  _or_  repulsive!" Mary told her. "And no one's going to find out. Even if they do, you're still  _you_."  
"Yeah -- useless and repulsive," King scoffed. She could feel herself going from despondent to irritated. Why couldn't Mary see her for what she really was? She was being too goddamn nice.

" _No._ " Mary said firmly. "You're a badass, remember? You just can't see it right no - don't make that face."  
"What face?"  
"That one --" Mary pointed a piece of bacon at King -- "The one you're making now."  
"Well what face  _should_  I make, then?!"  
"Not that one."

King narrowed her eyes; she honestly didn't understand what Mary wanted from her. Being told she was a "badass" wasn't going to change anything: It wasn't going to get that son of a bitch out of her head, and it wasn't going to undo any of the horrible things she had been put through. It didn't matter what she did or what anyone said; she was still a complete failure of a person. All of a sudden King was irate: She fiercely jammed her fork through the middle of the waffle; it stood straight up before slowly toppling over.

"What  _should_  I do then, Mary?! Should I smile more?! Should I just… I don't know -- be  _happier_?! More laid back, like you?! I mean… maybe I should just get over it already!? Because a month is a long time to stay so upset about being ruh -- you know what?! Maybe I should just stop caring about everything altogether -- because I'm such a  _badass_!"

King impulsively snatched the bacon from Mary's hand.

"What are you --?"  
" _Je mange_!" King snapped. She took a bite out of the crisp pork: it was the first piece of meat she had eaten in years, and it wasn't bad. A little greasy, but actually really tasty.

"So... does this mean you're not a vegetarian anymore?" Mary asked, completely unaffected by King's outburst.  
"J'en ai  _rien_  à foutre!" King angrily replied as she finished chewing. "Okay?!  _Fuck it_!" She tossed the remainder of the bacon on the plate and crossed her arms over her chest.  
"Calm down, killer," Mary held her hands out in front of her. "I know what you're doing, and you're only going to make yourself more upset."

King leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. Her anger was beginning to fade just as quickly as it had taken over, leaving her drained. She wished Mary would see that she was a lost cause and take her home, where she could curl up in the dark and wallow in peace.

"Cécile."

Mary leaned across the table, her face and voice very serious. King sprung forward in her seat, eyes wide with disbelief. Why on earth was Mary addressing her by her real name? Her real name that she never wanted to hear again because of what  _he_  did with it? And in public, no less?!

"Have you considered seeing someone about this?"  
"One: don't call me that," King growled. "And, two: yes, but there's no point."  
"Of course there's a point!"  
"I don't want to talk about it, Mary.  _Ever_. Therefore, no point."

Mary frowned.

"Okay, so you don't wanna talk about it -- I get that -- but someone who's trained in this sort of thing might be able to help you deal. I know a really great cou --"  
"I already said no."  
"Bb. This is tearing you up! Everyone is worried about you, and we're here for you, but you can't go on like this!"

King nodded slowly as a lump formed in the back of her throat. Mary was right - she  _couldn't_  go on like this. However, the idea of opening up to somebody new about the heinous encounter was far from appealing. She had talked about it exactly twice: once when she gave her statement to the police, and again when she ended up venting to Kyo Kusanagi, of all people. The two weren't strangers by any means, but their connection wasn't exactly a close one. Everything had just poured out then in a weird, stream-of-consciousness rant that ended with King feeling terrible and passing out from sheer fatigue. She never wanted to be that vulnerable around anyone, no matter their relationship to her, or their credentials, ever again.

"I… need to go home," King said tersely. "I have to open up tomorrow, and I promised Jean that I would call him before I went in, so…"

Mary nodded. "Of course, bb. I didn't mean --"  
"It's fine," King cut her off. "You're... I'm just an asshole, that's all."  
"No you're not," Mary told her while she combed the restaurant for their waitress. "You're the best."

King let out a bitter laugh. She didn't believe that for a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's up:
> 
> * I mentioned this in the notes to MLS, but there's a book called All About SNK 1991 - 2000 that has all sorts of character info. One of the tidbits is that, prior to the first Art of Fighting, King was defeated in a fight by Jack Turner and his gang. Remember, in King's likes/dislikes it specifically says she hates guys like Jack.  
> * Mary has taken a job as a detective for Southtown PD because she wanted more stable hours, paid vacation, and benefits. (Also mentioned this in previous notes, but eh.)  
> * Mean Girls, for any who are unfamiliar with it, is a movie starring Lindsay Lohan and Tina Fey. It's fucking hilarious, and the "Get in loser" scene has become something of a meme, I guess.  
> * Idk if I mentioned this before, but I've based Southtown loosely on San Diego. I mention this because there is an all-night diner on 6th that does serve Belgian waffles.  
> * "Je mange" = I'm eating  
> * "J'en ai rien à foutre" = is a super vulgar way of saying "I don't care." Basically it's akin to "I don't give a FUCK."  
> * King is canonically a vegetarian, in case you thought that was something I came up with.  
> * The line about Kyo is directly referring to MLS's final chapter (in case, for some reason, you didn't read it but are reading this instead? And if that's the case, Y tho?)


	5. Edit the Sad Parts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have some notes at the beginning here:
> 
> Jean (mistranslated as "Jan") calls King "Sis" as a somewhat clever way to keep her name under wraps. HOWEVER. Guess what name sounds kind of like "sis" when shortened? Mwahaha. There's a method to my madness, you all.
> 
> Also, Madeleine, in this case, is pronounced mahd-LEN. 
> 
> More notes at the end. Onward~

Tired and cranky, King was up much earlier than she wanted to be. The little sleep she had gotten the night before was disturbed by her usual nightmares, which left her feeling anything but rested. She sat up in her bed and covered her face, angry at herself for every single decision she made that fateful day. Deep down, she knew what happened wasn't her fault; it was a simple truth that was drilled into her head by everyone: the crisis counselor at the hospital, the cops, her friends. Common sense. But it still  _felt_  like it was, and that feeling was stronger than any logic that challenged it.

Almost as if on auto-pilot, King climbed out of bed to get ready for the day. She sluggishly carried out her morning routine while random songs played on infinite loops in her head, effectively drowning out most of the unhappy thoughts she was having. When it came time to get dressed she decided she didn't feel like getting all decked out for work: She pulled on a v-neck ringer t-shirt and jeans before dragging herself to the kitchen so she could feed the cat, who was practically screaming at her.

"Marronnnnnnnnn," King drew the name out as she opened the pantry to grab the food. "Laisse moi tranquille..."

Just as King finished with Marron's food, her cell phone's text chime went off from the bedroom. She made her way back to read the message, which was from her brother. All it said was, "U up?"

"Ha," King said out loud.

At the age of twelve, Jean was becoming quite a cheeky little bastard - but in a good way. King missed him very much: Despite their wide age gap the two hung out frequently and talked about (almost) everything, which made cutting him off extremely tough. King promised that there wouldn't be any more secrets between them after she left Big's syndicate, which made lying to him about her situation even more difficult than it already was. However, she had no choice but to keep the truth from Jean; if he knew about the incident he would be devastated: He would lose a piece of his innocence and he'd see that his big sister wasn't the strong ass-kicker he always thought she was. Even if she gave him a censored version of the story he'd  _still_  see that his big sister wasn't the strong ass-kicker he always thought she was  _and_  he'd be upset that she broke her promise to him.

In short, it was a lose-lose situation.

King sighed as she looked down at the message. She supposed she could just call Jean back, but, now that she had hours to kill before work, she could actually go hang out with him for a bit before she went in. She texted back to let him know that she would be over to pick him up, and that she would prefer it if he waited outside.

 

###

 

Twelve miles, several speeding jerks, and some loud music later, King pulled up to a modestly sized house in a trendy community smack in the middle of suburbia. She exited the car and started up the porch when the front door flew open.

"Céc!"

Jean ran outside and threw his arms around King, squeezing slightly too hard. The residual soreness from where her ribs had been cracked the month before made her wince. She bit her lip -- hard -- to keep from crying out.

"H-hey, kiddo," King breathed as Jean finally released his hold. "Are you ready to go?"  
"Yeah, I just have to tell Aunt Maddy that you're here. I think she wanted to talk to you."  
"...Oh."

Jean made a face. "I don't think it's anything bad," he said as he turned toward the open door. "Just try not to let her get to you, okay?"  
"I… ...Sure."

King watched with dismay as Jean went inside to fetch their aunt. She hoped whatever conversation they were going to have was short and to the point: She  _really_  didn't feel like hearing about how awful she was for disappearing for a month. She already knew; she didn't need a reminder. Unsure of what to do with herself, she started shadow boxing against a small tree in the front yard. A straight jab here, a side kick there...

After a moment Jean reappeared, noticeably uncomfortable, their aunt, Madeleine, following close behind. King immediately stopped what she was doing and rolled her eyes. Aunt Maddy looked like she was in a state.

"Cécile...!" The older woman snarled.  
"Hey Auntie," King said nonchalantly.  
"You have a lot of nerve, waltzing in here like this! You know, that boy has been absolutely miserable without you! Do you really think coming over whenever  _you_  feel like it is going to make up for blowing him off all this time?!'  
"I didn't blow him off! I was  _sick_!"  
"Yeah. Mono," Aunt Maddy sneered. "And how do you get  _that_ , exactly?"

King didn't like where the conversation -- if it could be called that -- was going. She took a deep breath and glanced over at Jean, who was nervously looking up at the sky, quietly whistling a song.

"Go wait in the car, Jean," King told him.  
"Céc --"  
"Please don't make me repeat myself."  
"...We'll be back, Aunt Maddy," Jean mumbled as he bowed his head and walked away. King watched him as he made his way to her vehicle. Once he was inside she spun around to face their aunt, who was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, scorn practically dripping off of her.

"What are you trying to insinuate?! And in front of Jean, no less?!"  
"All I'm saying is that people like...  _you_  don't just catch a disease like  _that_  unless -"

King involuntarily made a loud choking noise. She felt like she got hit in the gut: Of course her aunt had no idea what she was talking about, but the fact of the matter was that, while King was definitely not the type to sleep around, her body count had gone up in the worst possible way. She balled her hands into fists as nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to think of a dignified response, but ended up sputtering the very first thing that came to mind:

"Fu -fuck you…!"  
"What did you say?!"  
"I…" King squared her shoulders and did her best to collect herself, her voice slightly shaking. "I'm taking my brother and  _going_!"  
"I want him back here by twelve-thirty!"  
"Je m'en fou!"

King stormed off to the car. She climbed in, and, without looking at Jean, gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could as she leaned her head back against the seat.

"PUTAAAAAINNNN!"

"Céc," Jean raised his eyebrows, calm.  
"Bien. Je vais bien…!"  
"I told you  _not_  to let her get to you."  
"Je -- I'm sorry," King sighed as she started the car and backed out of the driveway. "I tried. I tried, and..."  
"When did it get so bad between you two?"  
"It was always bad, kiddo. You're just older now so you're aware of it."

Jean turned the volume on the stereo down. King could see him looking at her from the corner of her eye.

"...what?"  
"She  _does_  love you. On some level, anyway."  
"Good for her," King retorted coldly. She stopped at an intersection and glanced over at Jean. She needed to restore some sense of peace to their jaunt, for his sake as well as hers. "Barnes & Noble opens in a few minutes. We can go there and then get some ice cream after?"  
"Hell yes!"

King actually smiled -- and meant it. As she drove she made sure to talk about herself as little as possible: Other than answering a few basic questions she offered nothing extra. Besides, her brother's misadventures in junior high were a much more interesting topic of discussion than her schlepping around her apartment in a beat up stupor could ever be.

"Céc!" Jean suddenly exclaimed.  
"What?!" King asked, startled, as she pulled in to the massive parking lot.

"Is that a  _hickey_?!"  
"What?"  
"On your neck! Is that a hickey?!"

King was pretty sure her heart legitimately skipped a beat. Some of her concealer must have rubbed off somewhere between her apartment and her aunt's house. She tried to use the rearview mirror to see what Jean was talking about, but it was going to be impossible while the car was still moving.

"What do you know about hickeys?!" King shot back.  
"What the hell, Céc?! I thought you were sick!"  
"And I was," King stammered. "But you know I went back to work yesterday, and I… may have gotten in a small fight."

Great -- more lies.

"If you were in a fight that mark would be at the front of your neck," Jean said thoughtfully. "Unless he sucker punched you from the side, which would be very unlikely. Not to mention the size and color of it. A fist would leave a much bigger, darker mark..."

"Okay!" King shouted as she pulled into an empty parking spot on the side of the Barnes & Noble building. Jean's bullshit detector truly was a thing of wonder. "I didn't get in a fight! I just… I didn't --"  
"Was it a guy or a girl?" Jean cut her off, impassive.

King felt her blood pressure spiking to dangerous levels: She had never told Jean anything about her sexuality; she might have dropped a hint here or there but she never flat-out said anything about her preferences, which could only mean...

"Did that  _bit_  -- did Aunt Maddy  _out_  me?!"

Jean grimaced. "She says that bisexuals are greedy."  
"Oh my god," King moaned as she got out of the car. She hopped onto the sidewalk and covered her face with her hands. This was definitely not how she had pictured her day going.

"I kinda figured," Jean remarked as he walked up next to King. "You're always saying that girls are pretty. It doesn't matter to me, though. There are lots of girls in my class who are gay or bi."  
"But I'm not a girl in your class --" King uncovered her face -- "I'm your  _sister_."  
"So? Like I said, I don't care -- I just wish  _you_  had told me."

King hung her head and started walking toward the store's entrance. It was nice to know that Jean wasn't bothered, but she hadn't wanted him to find out such an important detail about her from somebody else -- especially not someone as contemptible as their aunt.

"So who'd you do at work yesterday?" Jean asked mischievously as he sauntered up next to King.  
"I didn't…  _do_ … anyone!"  
"So you just made out or something?"  
"No!" King answered without thinking. She instantly regretted it: If she had just gone along with the hickey thing Jean would have left well-enough alone, but now she was going to have to think of an all-new,  _convincing_  reason as to why there was a blemish on her neck to begin with.

"The look on your face right now!" Jean laughed.  
"I -- what?"  
"I'm just messing with you, Céc! I don't want to know any more than you want to tell me. Just be honest with me."  
"...Yeah?"  
"You really were sick, right?"

King immediately felt herself beginning to well up. It was almost like Jean was taking the figurative knife, driving it as far as it would go, and turning it counter-clockwise.

"You have no idea, kiddo…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of quick notes, but nothing too big:
> 
> * There's a twelve-year age gap between King and Jean. This isn't explicitly stated in the canon, but, after crunching a few numbers, it's the only option I came up with that made any kind of sense.  
> * "Laisse moi tranquille" = "leave me alone" or, quite literally, "leave me in peace"  
> * I know I talked about this before, but there is clearly somebody else caring for Jean, as seen by the fact that King will go for long stretches of time without seeing him (see AOF2 and KOF '96 endings, please). Also, how could she possibly be his legal guardian if she has to travel for tourneys? She only brings him with for KOF '97.  
> * "Je m'en fou" is (yet another) super rude way of saying "I don't care" in French. Basically this one boils down to "I don't give a shit"  
> * "Putain" literally translates to "whore" but is usually the French way of saying "fuck." (So King is yelling "FUUUUUCK!")  
> * "Bien" means good, or alright. "Je vais bien" means "I'm fine."  
> * Barnes & Noble opens at 10:00 AM on Sundays


	6. Medication

The next few days were something of a blur that saw King operating mostly in a daze: Her work schedule kept her busy, though her depression and anxiety continued to be extremely problematic. Although she was able to talk to -- and, in some cases, laugh with -- the regulars at the bar, the constant interaction with people was  _tiring_. King came to the conclusion that pretending that everything was normal was much more difficult than pretending to be a man ever was. Luckily her day off had finally come, which meant she could use the time away from the bar to recharge.

As King curled up in her bed she pulled Marron, who was sleeping beside her, close so that his head rested directly under her chin. She had no idea what time it was, or even what woke her, but she hoped that the cat's purring would help lull her back to sleep. It took a few minutes, but her muscles finally started to relax. Her breathing became steadier, and --

"I'M A LOOOOOOT LIKE YOUUUUUUUU SO PLEASE --"  
"AGH!"

Rivers Cuomo's off-key shout-singing abruptly snapped King out of her repose. She bolted up and snatched her phone from the bedside table while Marron took off running out of the room. She glared at Yuri Sakazaki's smiling photograph as she struggled to move the on screen slider.

" _Yes_?!" King exclaimed rudely as she brought the device up to her ear.  
"Are you okay?! Where are you?!" Yuri sounded worried -- frantic, even.  
"What? I'm - I'm at… home…?" Realization slowly dawned on King as she trailed off. "...What time is it?"  
"You're half an hour late," came Yuri's reply.  
"Shit!" King threw her covers off and jumped out of bed. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"No, no -- you're fine! You're good!"  
"No! Not fine! Not good! I told you I'd be there at --"  
"I'm just so glad you're okay! You had me worried!"  
"Why would you be -?"

King stopped herself.  _Of course_  Yuri would be worried if she didn't make their planned meeting. How could she  _not_  be?

"Don't answer that," King sighed as she made her way to the bathroom and hastily turned on the shower. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Maybe less if I can hurry."  
"Counting on it," Yuri said in a happy sing-song voice. She hung up.

King raced through her routine in record time. She muttered various swear words in a strange amalgam of English and French as she rifled through a basket of wrinkled clothing at the foot of the bed: The track shorts and Star Wars shirt would do. She stumbled on her own foot as she grabbed her phone and a small gym bag that was stationed near the closet door and ran out of the room.  


###  


By the time King reached the Kyokugen dojo she was already sweating and somewhat winded, which was not a promising start to Sparring Day. She had sprinted almost the entire way in eighty-plus degree heat -- the first real exercise she had gotten since her run-in with Mr. Big's men. She placed her hands on her knees as she worked to catch her breath.

"Twenty-two minutes!" Yuri waved from the open doorway.  
King responded with a miserable grunt. She shouldered her small gym bag and walked past Yuri, into the quiet building, which was just as warm -- if not warmer -- than it was outside.

"So the AC's busted again." It was almost as if Yuri had read King's mind. "The technician won't be here until tomorrow."  
"Are you trying to kill me?"  
"We can postpone if you want."  
"No, I'm here now…"  
"Okay. So, are you ready?"

King opened her bag to grab her hand wraps. It was a simple question that she really didn't have an answer to. The last time she fought she lost -- badly. The beating she endured showed how powerless she was: she couldn't defend herself when it  _really_  counted, a fact that continually messed with her head. Of course, Yuri would never pull a gun on her, or willingly give her a concussion, so at least there was that. Nevertheless, she started thinking about that afternoon again: the feeling of the gun against her jaw; the pain from having her head busted open. She shut her eyes as she wrapped her hands. She tried to put it out of her mind, but, just like that, her mood took a dangerous turn toward unbridled anger.

"King-san?" Yuri nervously peered up at her. "Do you want to start with some stretches?"  
"I think I'd rather hit something."  
"O-okay. Let's do it!"

Yuri sounded uncertain but hopped into her fighting stance, raring to go. King gave a wry smile as she shook her head. She appreciated Yuri's enthusiasm, but fighting her would probably be a mistake: She didn't want to accidentally hurt her.

"I was thinking I'd hit the bag a bit. You know… baby steps?"  
"Oh. Oh! Right! Okay!"

King quirked a brow as she walked over to a punching bag that was in the corner of the room. Yuri seemed unusually antsy.

"Why are you being so weird?"  
"Me?" Yuri pointed a finger at herself.  
"Yeah," King replied as she threw a quick jab at the punching bag. " _I'm_  supposed to be the weird one around here, not you."  
"It's just… you have this look on your face like --"  
"Why is everyone always talking about the look on my face?!" Jab.  
"-- Because you make some pretty epic faces. But you look so angry today! It's kind of scary, King-san!"  
"Please feel free to dop the 'san' from my name." Hook.  
"Don't change the subject…!"

King threw a hard kick that knocked the bag back by several inches. It swung toward her so she kicked it again, harder this time.

"What subject, exactly?"  
"You seem unhappy today," Yuri said as she sat down on the floor and started stretching.  
"HA!" King let out a bitter laugh as she sidestepped the bag and struck it with a quick hook. " _Me_? Unhappy? Come on, Yuri."  
"All I'm saying is that you just seem --"  
"I'm fine!" High kick.  
"King-sa -- King. How long have we known each other?"

King did a backflip to avoid being hit by the swinging bag. She looked over at Yuri and frowned; she knew exactly where she was going with this.

"Long enough for me to know that you're going to say something like 'I know when you're not fine'." High kick.  
"Well, yeah. Because I  _do_  know when you're not fine," Yuri stated. She made a face before speaking again. "Hey, do you need me to go to the store for you again?"  
"No, I went yesterday." High kick. "Thanks, though."  
"No problem. Just let me know if you need me to keep helping you out. I don't mind!"  
"I'm good," King said as she kneed the bag.

The pair fell silent. For several minutes the only sounds in the room were the assorted noises from the punching bag: the dull thuds from King's blows and the clatter from the chain as it swung back and forth.

"Hey, King-san?" Yuri inquired as she sat straight up.  
"Yeah...?"  
"You look a little pale. Maybe you should take a break?"

King  _was_  starting to feel a little strange: She hadn't eaten anything before she ran out of her apartment, nor had she stopped for a drink at any point. Taking a break would probably be the smart thing to do, but she had an absolute  _need_  to keep attacking, her personal well-being be damned.

"I'm -- I'm okay," King faltered. She threw another high kick. "I'm just… white."

Yuri stood up. "Yeah, but you look much whiter than normal. Do you want something to drink?"  
"I... "

King took a step backward as the room started to veer off at an angle. She knew she was overdoing it, but she had no choice. How could she possibly fight for real if she couldn't hang in there against an inanimate object? She threw a double jab followed by a hook that barely connected. She felt so tired all of a sudden, and her accuracy was waning, but she had to keep going. She went for another high kick but missed the bag entirely. Before she could recover it swerved straight into her side, knocking her flat on her ass.

"Shit!"  
"Hey!" Yuri was beside King in a flash, a huge bottle of water in her hand. "Take it!"

King felt lightheaded. She placed a shaky hand on her forehead: Her fingers brushed her small scar, which filled her with a renewed sense of anger.

"Not yet!" She tried to stand, but Yuri put her hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.  
"The bag isn't going anywhere. Please just stop for a second before you -"  
"Hurt myself? I can't hurt myself anymore than… than they did. Than  _he_  did."

Yuri looked like she didn't know what to say. Instead, she gestured for King to take the bottle. There was silence as King finally grabbed it.

"I think I know what you need," Yuri said thoughtfully. A huge grin slowly spread across her face.  
"What?"

Yuri got up to rummage through her own gym bag. She pulled out a small plastic baggie of cookie-brownies.

"You didn't," King said with wide eyes.  
"You're having some!" Yuri broke a piece off of one of the edibles and handed it to King.  
"How many milligrams are these?!"  
"Enough to take the edge off!"

King was doubtful. The last time she tried to "take the edge off" with edibles she ended up laughing until she became terribly sad and cried herself to sleep. Then again, anything was better than her current frame of mind.

"So does this mean we're done for the day?" King asked before stuffing the entire piece of cookie-brownie in her mouth. When she was finished chewing she reclined on one of the floor mats.

"Who says we're done?" Yuri ate her own piece. "This is going to be fun. Just watch -- you'll feel so much better soon!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The ringtone for Yuri is the chorus of Weezer's El Scorcho, which I mentioned previously. Rivers Cuomo is the lead singer.  
> *King is kinda weird, okay. Like, did you play AOF2? She comes out dressed as the Neo Geo mascot for crying out loud.  
> *Yuri was helping King out during her time hiding away: going to the store, cooking - that type of shit.  
> *Marijuana is totally legal in California. Also, cookie brownies are amazing. Cookie brownies with pot? Even better.  
> *The ladies ingested pieces that are 57.5 milligrams each.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think. Validation helps my lizard brain. Cheers!


	7. Heart Cooks Brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, is anyone still here? Cool. You know what's up. Enjoy!

“Ohhhh my god…”  
  
Half an hour later King stared up at the ceiling from her place on the mat. Her eyes and limbs felt heavy, her hearing was slightly muted, and there was a weird burning sensation in her feet. If she didn’t know any better she would think she was going to fall through the floor.  
  
“What the _hell_ did you give me?”  
“You’re feeling it, huh?” Yuri asked with a grin.  
“Aren’t you?”  
“Haha, yup!”  
“I guess I _do_ feel a little better,” King said with a shrug.  
“Yeah, you don’t seem all angry anymore.”  
“I wasn’t that bad. Was I?”  
“Like I said, you were kinda scary.”  
  
King snickered; there was nothing “scary” about her. Sure, her height made her somewhat physically imposing, but scary? No way. She pointed a finger toward the ceiling and started deliberately tracing one of several cracks in it. Her sense of time was becoming skewed: it felt like everything she was doing was occurring in some distant past.  
  
“I’m not scary. I’m a mess.”  
“What?”  
“Mess. I am a mess. A mess is me.”  
“Aww, King-san! Don’t say that! You’re awesome!”  
  
King pressed her lips together as she glanced over at Yuri, who was also on the floor. Why was everyone always making it a point to tell her how great she was? All she kept hearing since _it_ happened was that she was going to be okay because she was strong, and amazing, and whatever the fuck else was supposed to make her feel better about herself. But she knew the truth: she was weak, and incapable; abhorrent. A failure.  
  
“That’s nice of you to say, but --”  
“But nothing! You’re so kind… and tough… and pretty… and you have such a pointy nose…” 

Both women started laughing hysterically.  
  
“Yeah, ‘cuz I’m fucking _French_ !” King stopped tracing the cracks so she could hold on to her sides as she giggled madly. “What do you expect?!”  
“I knew this would work! Wasn’t this a great idea?!” Yuri seemed very proud of herself.  
“Haaaa. Sure. You win.” King took a moment to collect herself. “Maybe I should just become a stoner. Then… maybe things won’t bother me so much anymore. You can be my dealer.”  
“I’ll give you a discount. Twenty-five percent off!”  
“Done,” King replied. Her eyes began to close.  
“Don’t go to sleep,” Yuri warned her. “There’s a class in, like, thirty minutes.”  
“I should be a guest teacher like _this_ ,” King chuckled. She absolutely hated the idea of coming in to give a demonstration, but picturing herself trying to teach a group of students while seriously high was _very_ amusing.  
  
“You’d still be great! I bet you could take on the whole class stoned!”  
  
King’s mood suddenly took a small dip as intrusive thoughts about _it_ started to break through her high.  
  
“...I couldn’t take on two guys sober.”  
“But, that’s...” Yuri furrowed her brow. “That was different! They had a weap --”  
“I. got. beat. up,” King interrupted in a lilting tone. She punctuated each word by wagging both index fingers back and forth. “Mary thinks I should go to counseling. I don’t want to do that, though. Bad sex doesn't drive people to therapy.”  
“You don’t honestly believe that _that’s_ \--?!” Yuri vaulted upright and did a double take.  
“What? That’s all it was,” King continued, not entirely sure of what she was saying. She carelessly waved her hands around. “I mean… that’s all it really boils down to, right? Bad sex.”  
  
“Bad _what_ ?!”  
  
King froze. All at once her face flushed a violent shade of pink; her stomach lurched as her former enemy, sometimes friend, sometimes rival, and-one-time-but- _only_ \- _one_ \- _time_ -because-she-was- _incredibly_ -drunk-masturbatory-material, Ryo Sakazaki, walked into the room, his face a mix between curious and aghast.  
  
“Ryo! Uhhh, heyyyyy,” King clumsily greeted Yuri’s brother from the floor. This was bad.  
“Hey, King! We’ve missed you around here!”  
“Well, you know… mono… and stuff.”  
  
Yuri tried -- and failed -- to suppress a fit of giggles.  
  
“I heard. So!” Ryo crossed the room in several easy strides. “ _Why_ are you two gossiping about… uh... bad... sex?”  
  
King didn’t know what to say. How much of the conversation had Ryo overheard?! She looked over at Yuri, who subtly nodded at her before she cleared her throat.  
  
“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know, huh, dear brother?”  
“Uhh… that’s what... I just asked.”  
“Yeah, well… it’s not your business! Is it, King-san?!”  
“...Nope.”  
  
Ryo narrowed his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think it’s _you_ , with the way you’re dancing around the question,” he told Yuri suspiciously.

“What does it matter?”  
“What do you mean ‘what does it matter’?! You’re my little sister!”  
“Yeah, but I’m also an _adult_ , brother!”  
  
King watched the siblings as they started bickering among themselves. She abruptly felt bad: if she hadn’t started rambling about… things, then the conversation (or was it a full-blown argument at this point?) between Yuri and Ryo wouldn’t even be happening. But, now, because of her, Yuri was going to end up getting sucked into a nasty battle that would result in her and Ryo getting so pissed off at each other that their father would inevitably have to intervene, which would, in turn, lead to Yuri getting in a nasty battle with _him_ about living her own life. And for what? It was all because King couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. Surely, there had to be some way to fix this that didn’t involve  --

“It was me! We’re talking about me!”  
  
King quickly sat up while raising her hand in the air, taken aback by her own impulsiveness, which always managed to come out at the _worst_ possible times. She didn’t know what the hell she was saying or doing: she absolutely did not want _anyone_ to know about what happened -- _especially_ not Ryo-fucking-Sakazaki -- and, yet, here she was, blurting things out because pot. She opened her mouth to speak some more, but Yuri immediately scrambled over on all fours and tackled her onto the mat.

“King-san is so _funny_ !” Yuri threw a gloved hand over King’s mouth. “Isn’t she _funny_ , big brother?!”  
“Ahhh, sure…?” Ryo answered. He looked utterly bewildered.

Although horrified by her obvious lack of discretion, King started laughing very hard. It was either that or start crying hysterically.  
  
“Ihwaahbobad,” King giggled uncontrollably, her words -- thankfully -- muffled. She tried to wrestle out of Yuri’s grasp but was wildly unsuccessful.  
“King-san!” Yuri was laughing as well, but her tone was urgent. “Stop talking!”  
  
Ryo set his jaw while he watched the women squirm around on the floor. He nodded his head, seemingly deep in thought. “Nice try, King,” he finally said with a smirk. “I know you’re just trying to protect my deviant sister over here.”  
  
King’s laughter slowly tapered off. She felt her cheeks flush even more than she thought possible: Ryo... didn’t believe her? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? What was happening?!  
  
“Robert better not touch you,” Ryo rounded on Yuri. “You two better not be --”  
“Better not be what?!” Yuri replied as she hesitantly let go of King. “What do you think we do, brother?! Just because _you’re_ not getting any doesn’t mean --”  
“What?!”  
  
King covered her face, embarrassed for everyone in the room.  
  
“Maybe I should go…”  
“Don’t go anywhere!” Yuri cried.  
“We’ll finish this conversation later!” Ryo glared at his sister before turning to King. His expression softened. “Hey, why don’t we have a match?”  
“I’m sorry, a what?”  
“A match! To help you shake off that ring rust!”  
“Ohhhh,” King wiped at the corners of her eyes, which had teared up a little. “I’m kind of fucked up right now...”  
  
Ryo chuckled. “Good one, King. Come on -- it’ll be constructive!”  
  
King stared up at Ryo. She noticed that he was growing a beard. Hot.  
  
“King-san!”  
“Huh?!” King turned to Yuri, who was laughing her ass off. “What?”  
“We’ve been talking to you for over a minute and you’re just sitting there!” Yuri chortled. “Are you going to answer the question or?!”  
“What question?”  
  
Ryo’s eyes suddenly went wide. King could swear she actually saw a lightbulb turn on over his head.  
  
“I _knew_ you guys were acting weird! You’ve been taking pot, haven’t you!?”  
“It’s _medicinal_ !” Yuri exclaimed.  
“And _legal_!” King added as she unsteadily rose to her feet.

“You two are unbelievable! I can’t believe you would do that sort of thing here! Don’t you have any respect for the school?! If dad finds out about this he’ll lose it!”  
“Well, dad _won’t_ find out about it, will he?”  
  
Ryo scowled.  
  
“King! Let’s go!”  
“Huh?!”  
“Think of this as an opportunity to focus your technique,” Ryo declared. He suddenly rushed King with a flurry of punches that she barely dodged.  
  
“What the _fuck_ ?!”  
“Come on!”  
  
Ryo threw a roundhouse kick that narrowly missed the top of King’s head as she ducked out of the way. Everything was so heavy and far off; there was no way in hell she would be able to fight.  
  
“You can’t be serious about this!” King exclaimed. She sidestepped a standing heavy kick and did her best to create some distance between herself and Ryo, but he closed in on her immediately. He hit her with a quick strike that connected with her upper arm with a loud whack. A welt appeared instantly but she barely felt it. Cannabis was magic.  
  
“Focus!” Ryo admonished her.  
“You sound like an asshole!” King replied as she blocked another heavy blow. Under normal circumstances she would have tried to end the bout with a swift kick to Ryo's head, but she was far too sluggish to do anything.  
  
“Come on, King-san!” Yuri cheered from the sidelines. “You can totally do it!”  
“That’s easy for you to say! Ryo! Knock it off already!”  
“Not until you land a hit!”  
“You have got to be kidding me!”  
  
King sidestepped an uppercut: She saw an opening but couldn’t take it because Ryo was moving too damn fast... or maybe she was moving too damn slow? She blocked a kick to her mid-section and tried to strike back with an elbow, but it was no use -- she missed. She attempted to throw a high kick but missed that, too. Ryo capitalized on King’s repeated blunders: he moved to her side and swept her leg. She lost her footing and landed on her back with a dull thump.  
  
“Disappointing!” Ryo shook his head.  
  
“Dick move, Sakazaki,” King grunted. She started to get up but decided that staying down was a much more appealing course of action. “The floor is my home now,” she told the siblings matter-of-factly. She took a chance and glanced at Ryo, who was standing over her with his arms crossed. She hated the look on his face; it made her feel weird, like a child who had done something wrong. And, yet, it was strangely hilarious. She started laughing again.  
  
“Your lack of resolve isn’t funny! You should strive to be better than… than this!” Ryo scolded.  
“Oh, shut up!” Yuri called from across the room. She strolled over to King and put a hand out to help her up, but continued to address her brother. “It was an unfair match! King-san has been through hell lately and all you can do is focus on your stupid ‘Karate Guy’ bullcrap! Don’t you realize how much of a big step this is for her to even be here right now?! After what happened with Bi --”  
  
“YURI I NEED YOU DOWN HERE!”  
  
King didn’t stop giggling as she hastily took Yuri’s outstretched hand in hers and jerked her down to the floor. Yuri cried out as she landed hard, which, oddly enough, made King laugh even more. Yuri opened her mouth to complain, but was hit with the realization that she nearly said too much. “Gomen,” she whispered.  
  
“You know what? You’re right -- it wasn’t fair,” Ryo conceded. He knelt down so he was directly in front of King. “I’m sorry.”  
“I, ah… it’s… it’s okay.” King did her best to force herself to stop laughing and pressed her lips together. She really hoped she was flustered because of her high, and not because of Ryo’s stupid eyes. Hazel was such a nice colour.  
“What happened to your head?”  
“Huh?”  
  
Ryo gently moved a lock of King’s hair away from her forehead so he could get a better look at her scar. King found herself rapidly sobering up, as there was a very real chance that she would stupidly tell him _exactly_ how she got hurt, since drugs and alcohol seemed to act as some kind of bizarre truth serum on her.  
  
“That’s from when King-san --”  
“I fell!” King cut Yuri off. “I collapsed, and I hit my head on the corner of the coffee table, so I went to -- to the hospital and, ah… mono!”  
“Must have been a nasty cut,” Ryo commented as he peered at the small flaw.

“It, ummm… it bled a lot.”  
  
Even in King’s drugged state the memory of her warm blood trickling down her face as she was beat senseless was more than enough to make her profoundly ill. She was hit with an all-too familiar tightness in her chest that usually preceded her anxiety attacks.  
  
“I should go home now!”

King was on her feet in an instant. She made her way over to her bag and hastily began unwrapping her hands, which were starting to shake. Before she could really process what was going on, Ryo was next to her.

“Hey, are you angry at me?” Ryo reached for King’s arm but she briskly shrugged away from his touch.  
“Don’t get familiar!”  
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I really _am_ sorry about --”  
“It’s fine!” King freed her left hand but was struggling with the wrap on her right. “I just --”  
  
Before King could finish, Yuri nimbly skipped over, grabbed her hand, and started leading her toward the locker room.  
  
“Wha --?”  
“I need to talk to you, King-san!” Yuri looked into King’s face; she raised her eyebrows and gave a quick nod, clearly trying to communicate that she knew something was wrong. “Girl talk!” Yuri called to Ryo as she hurriedly ushered King out of the area.  
  
As soon as the pair was safely in the locker room, Yuri wordlessly sat King on a bench. She opened her mouth to say something but King spoke first.  
  
“He knows something’s up. He _has_ to.”  
“No way. This is Captain Oblivious of the Starship Oblivious we’re talking about!”  
“He’s much more clever than we give him credit for. He’s going to figure it out!”  
“King-san, it’s the paranoia talking! You’re fine!”  
“Nothing is fine,” King groaned. She started fumbling with her hand wrap, frustrated that she couldn’t get the damn thing off.  
  
“I should have never said anything. I should have just kept my mouth shut, but, no. Céc gets stoned and Céc starts talking. And talking. And doesn’t _stop_ talking. If you hadn’t gagged my dumb ass back there I probably would have just let it _all_ come out -- which doesn’t even make any sense to begin with! I don’t want... ! Yuri, if your brother finds out, he’ll…”  
“He’ll _understand_ ,” Yuri said as she took King’s hand. She deftly began working at the stuck tape. “He’s not going to see you any differently. He might get a little angry that you didn’t tell him about Big, but the other stuff won’t --”  
“You don’t get it,” King interjected. She swallowed hard before continuing. “We had a conversation once -- we were at the bar, you weren’t there -- and body counts came up.”  
“Body counts?”  
“The number of people someone has slept with,” King replied bluntly. She shut her eyes and went on. “When Ryo found out that I… mine... he got all weird on me. Yuri, if he finds out there’s a number three he’s going to think that I’m some kind of --”  
“Okay, so he’s a little old-fashioned, yeah, but it’s not like you...” Yuri trailed off as she freed King’s hand from the wrap. It was obvious that she was trying to think of the exact right thing to say.  
  
“Wanted it?” King asked. “That doesn’t matter. In his eyes a lay is a lay is a lay.”  
“Dude, you were _attacked_ !”  
  
King let out a very loud sigh. “That doesn’t really make it much better, though, does it? Not only am I a whore, but I’m a _helpless_ whore on top of it.”  
“King-san!?”  
  
Yuri jumped off of the bench. She placed her hands on her hips while glowering down at King, who raised her eyebrows, unfazed.  
  
“You don’t honestly think that, do you?! That you’re --”  
“Yuri.” King placed her head in her hands, a little surprised by how tired she sounded. “I’m way too high for this.”  
“Too high for what? King-san, you are not helpless, and you’re definitely not a… a whore! Why would you even _think_ something like that?!”

Everything was suddenly very distant. King knew Yuri was talking to her, but she wasn’t registering anything she was saying. She squinted up at her and wished that she would stop trying to give her a pep talk. She also wished she would take her out for some fucking bacon.  
  
“King-san, you dork!” Yuri snickered. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you and you’re zoning out on me!”  
“I told you I was too high for this…”  
“Fine,” Yuri lowered herself back onto the bench. She placed a hand on King’s back before resting her head on her shoulder. “I love you, Céc -- even when you say terrible things about yourself. I’m going to make you see how wrong you are.” A pause. “Wanna go eat?”  
  
King cracked a tiny smile, relieved that the conversation was over.  
  
“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *King's height making her physically imposing: For anyone who forgot, she's 5'9" (175 cm). That's fucking tall for a woman.
> 
> *In KOF XIV, during their special intro, Yuri tells King that Ryo wants her to go by the dojo to be a guest teacher. She replies with, "I hate that kind of stuff."
> 
> *"Masturbatory material": Head-canon: This is part of why King gets so flustered around Ryo. Good, old fashioned embarrassment.
> 
> *Ihwaahbobad = It was so bad
> 
> *In How Do You Sleep? Mary specifically mentions to King that she would go back on her full gay policy if "a certain someone started rocking a beard."
> 
> *"Gomen" is Japanese for "sorry"
> 
> *Usually in official and in-game illustrations, Ryo's eyes are brown or blue, but I thought that, since his father and sister have dark eyes, and their mom presumably had light eyes, hazel would make more sense. Genetics are weird.
> 
> *"Don't get familiar" is kindasorta a small nod to a scene in Thor: Ragnarok.
> 
> *King's vegetarian streak is in serious limbo right now.


	8. Good News For People Who Love Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anybody still with me? You have my sincere apologies for the long stretch between updates. I would love to say that I'll be back on a regular schedule, but that would be irresponsible. Onward!

King’s time with the Sakazakis left her both physically and mentally drained. As she lay across her sofa, freshly showered and completely sober, she replayed the day’s events in her mind. Being able to laugh with Yuri had actually been fun -- a much needed reprieve from, well, everything -- but her interactions with Ryo left a bad taste in her mouth. Her numerous gaffes in front of him, her odd preoccupation with how he might see her if he found out the truth, her residual embarrassment because of that one, drunken thing… She didn’t even know _why_ she cared so much about what he thought, but it frustrated her to no end.

At least the stoned sparring match would make for a great story.

As King stared vacantly at the television she absentmindedly toyed with the rosebud necklace Jean gave her for her birthday the previous year. There was a _Game of Thrones_ marathon playing, which, normally, would have brought her great joy, but little things that usually made her happy didn’t have much of an effect on her anymore, which was both tragic and disturbing. However, the fact that she was actively _trying_ to watch TV at all was progress. Unfortunately, the show had the potential to knock said progress a good six steps back.   
  
The episode that was on was surrounded in controversy over its ending: A main character was violated off-screen by one of the most foul villains to ever grace a television set. It was the exact sort of thing King knew she should avoid, but she had an almost morbid need to see if she could handle seeing it in the aftermath of her own ordeal. After all, it was only a TV show, and a rerun at that; she already knew what was going to happen so there wouldn’t be any surprises. However, she wasn’t terribly certain of what would go on in her own head once the sequence began, and that was more unsettling than anything else.   
  
King closed her hand around her necklace and squeezed as the scene began to play out. The second the wedding dress tore she involuntarily backed up against the sofa and pressed her legs together as tight as she could. All at once she began thinking about _him_ : the way he looked at her, the smell of his cologne. The terrible things he said to her as he reached up her skirt.  
  
This was a horrible idea.   
  
At that moment _Killer Queen_ issued from King’s phone, bringing her back to the present and letting her know that Mary was looking for her. She stretched her arm out and plucked the device from the coffee table.

“H-hey.” King’s voice trembled slightly as she mumbled a dull greeting.  
“Hey, girlie. Are you busy?”   
“No, I’m off tonight.”   
“Good, because, like, I’m outside and I need to talk to you so come open the door.” 

The line went dead.

King made a face before dragging herself off of the sofa: She wasn’t really sure if she could handle anymore social interaction, especially with someone who could see straight through her. Nevertheless she shuffled over to the door and pulled it open to see Mary standing right in the center of the welcome mat, a cardboard drink holder with two smoothies in it resting on one small hand.  
  
“I come bearing gif -- what’s wrong?”   
“Nothing,” King lied. “Just watching TV.”   
  
Mary quirked a brow before rushing into the apartment. She placed the smoothies on the dining table before crossing over to the living room, where she wordlessly stared at the television. After a long silence she turned back to King, her face full of dismay.

“Oh, bb... Did you just finish the one I _think_ you finished?”   
  
King sighed.   
  
“It’s fine, Mary. I can handle a little fictional ra...” 

King trailed off.  Even after all this time she couldn’t say the word out loud -- or even _think_ it for that matter. She picked up one of the smoothies and took a huge sip, careful not to trigger a brain freeze. Meanwhile, Mary shrugged out of her blazer and draped it over the back of a nearby armchair. She took off her shoulder holster and placed it, along with her gun and badge on the coffee table before plopping on to the plush seat.

“You sure about that? I don’t think you realize how you _look_ right now.”   
“And how do I look?”   
“Like you just watched a rape scene you weren’t ready to watch.”   
  
King flinched.   
  
“Shit!” Mary covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to --”   
“What did you need to talk to me about?” King changed the subject as she freed the other drink from its holder. She brought it over to Mary before sitting down on the couch.   
“Well…”   
“Well, what?”

“I was thinking about our conversation the other night -- at the diner? Like, I know what you said, but --” Mary reached into her shirt pocket and produced a business card -- “I want you to take this.” She handed the card to King, who looked it over: it was for the therapist Mary previously recommended.  
“I already told you that I don’t  -- ”  
“Yeah, I know, but she’s really good and just keep it, okay?”

King frowned as she placed the card on a small end table next to the sofa.

“There’s something else we need to discuss.”  
“What?”  
“...Big.”

King’s hand shook as she placed her near-empty smoothie on the coffee table. She spent many sleepless nights thinking about Mr. Big and his reasoning for having her attacked despite how much time had passed since they parted ways. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised: Big was vindictive and cruel; if somebody got on his Shit List he made damn sure they paid for wronging him. And King was _definitely_ paying for wronging him.  
  
“What… why?”   
“There’s been a lot of activity from his group lately. Mostly small drug busts and burglaries, but I can’t help thinking that he’s up to something a little more substantial. I don’t have any proof, though.”   
“What does this have to do with me?”   
“Once upon a time _you_ were in his inner circle. I was hoping you might have some insight.”   
  
King raised her eyebrows. It had been so long since she worked for Big; what insight could she possibly have now?   
  
“You’re the detective, Mary. Any ‘insight’ I have is stuff you already know.”   
“Okay, but you’re one of the few people who knows how he _really_ operates. Part of me wonders if sending his men after you was meant as some kind of distraction.”   
“A ‘distraction’? From what?!”   
“From whatever it is he’s actually  doing,” Mary said darkly. “Think about it. You’re not exactly just some person, you’re  --”   
“I’m just a bartender and you’re overthinking this.”   
  
King picked up the throw pillow she had been laying on earlier and held it close. She took a deep breath and continued.   
  
“He didn’t send his guys for me as some kind of distraction technique -- he did it for good, old-fashioned revenge. I spent seven months lying to him about who I was before I betrayed him, which automatically made me a target. He probably waited so long to do something because he wanted to lull me into a false sense of security -- and it worked. Come on, detective. Do better.”   
  
It was Mary’s turn to frown. She grasped her straw between her fingers and stirred her drink.   
  
“Will you do me a solid and watch your back? I mean… not that you aren’t already, but…”   
“Oh, because I’m not paranoid enough?”   
“Please?”   
  
King nodded. She briefly glanced at the television before fixing her gaze on the pistol on the table. The vague memory of Mary shooting her attacker instantly popped into her mind: The sound of the gun firing had been so loud; she remembered how much it startled her even though she was barely awake when it happened.

“What are you thinking?” Mary asked cautiously.  
“I’m thinking… that I envy you,” King said quietly.  
“Why?”  
“You got to shoot him. Twice.”   
“I wasn’t gonna let him get away with hurting you like that.”  
“But he _did_ get away with it.”  
“What do you mean? Even after the plea deal it’s going to be years before he’s even _eligible_ for parole. Not to mention he’ll never walk right again.”   
  
King set the pillow to the side. She ran her hands through her hair while continuing to stare at the pistol. 

“I know, but _I’m_ the one who has the nightmares and scars while he has… what? A wonderful story about how he… ‘beat up’... a regular King of Fighters entrant. He probably tells people that I meant the things he made me say to him. Meanwhile, I have trouble looking at myself without wanting to be sick. Sometimes I swear I can still _feel_ it. Not in a metaphorical way, but in a horrible, _physical_ way. I can’t even watch TV without thinking about what he did to me. So... yeah -- he got away with it.” 

Mary quickly put her drink down and moved from the chair to the sofa. She peered in to King’s face. “Look at me. What can I do to help?”

“There’s literally nothing you can do.”  
“Do you want me to go to the penitentiary and shoot that asshole again? I’ll do it. I have clearance -- I’ll shoot him in the dick.”

There was something about Mary’s delivery that made King laugh.

“There’s that smile!” Mary put her arm around King and gave her a light shake. “I’m serious, though. Say the words and I’ll do it.”  
“I wouldn’t want you to be investigated for brutality,” King told her. “Again.”  
“Girl, please. The chief loves me too much to really do anything. Did you forget I was only suspended for a week? _With_ pay?”  
  
King pressed her lips together. Mary’s offer was tempting, but it was pointless: While it was true that she would feel an almost sick satisfaction if something terrible happened to that monster (like Mary shooting him in the dick), he had already won. _Big_ had already won. It was incredibly depressing and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. 

“I got high and fought Ryo today,” King remarked after a brief silence.  
“Interesting non sequitur,” Mary snickered. “But I need to hear this story. Tell me everything!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few tidbits or whatever:
> 
> *That one, drunken thing, for those of you in the back, refers to something briefly mentioned in the last chapter. King had a drunken night with herself and thought about Ryo. She's embarrassed as fuck about it.  
> *The rosebud necklace: In KOF XIII, in the Women's Team Prologue, King is wearing a necklace of a green rosebud. It's from Jean now because I said so. Suck it, SNK.  
> *The Game of Thrones episode playing is season 5, episode 6: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. That's the one where [REDACTED] rapes [REDACTED] while [REDACTED] is forced to watch, for any of you non-watchers out there.  
> *Killer Queen is a song by Queen  
> *Mary's "small hand": Okay, so, like, before they revealed Mary's height (5'6"/168 cm) I always thought of her as being on the small side. I still do. I make the rules here. Again, suck it, SNK.  
> *Mary totally knows her GoT episodes.  
> *King spending seven months masquerading as a man is something that makes sense as realistically as possible. Keeping a charade like that going for any longer than a few months would be extremely excessive, and, also, doesn't really line up with the canon in terms of when she got to Southtown and her age in the AOF games. Like, it would literally make zero sense. And I'm trying to make it make sense. That's one of my goals.  
> *Mary's suspension: Consequences for what she did in MLS. Also alluded to in chapter 2 - Dramamine.
> 
> Okay, I promise that's it! Cheers!


	9. This Devil's Workday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to get this thing back on track! Also, to my male readers: I'm sorry. (You'll understand soon enough...)

King stood with her back against the wall, arms folded over her chest, as she quietly took in her surroundings: Southtown's annual Comic Con was in full swing, bringing all manner of tourists to Illusion, each one looking to wind down with some drinks after a long, hectic day of attending crowded panels and perusing artist alleys. King wouldn't go so far as to say the place was "crowded," but it was certainly busier than usual, full of people dressed in costumes that were in various states of disarray thanks to hours of walking through the oppressive heat in and around the convention center.

As for King, she decided to work a double shift in an effort to try to take her mind off of things, and to be more "normal," but her mood had taken a steady nosedive over the course of the day, going from mostly apathetic to mildly distressed to majorly aggravated to the point where she felt like she was on the verge of having some sort of cataclysmic meltdown. If she hadn't already had her period she would think she was in the midst of a  _really_  severe case of PMS. Nevertheless, she needed to put on the happiest face she could muster in order to avoid being asked the one question that would be impossible for her to answer without losing her shit:

"Are you okay?"

If Sally or Elizabeth or anyone else not in the know were to inquire about King's well-being it would be disastrous at best. She didn't think she would be able to give a straight answer: she'd falter, or maybe she'd break entirely, and then everyone would  _see_  just how much of a mess she really was.

"Can I get two mojitos?"

The request from a clearly buzzed woman dressed as  _Overwatch's_  Mercy interrupted King's thoughts. She inwardly groaned as she tore herself away from the wall. She considered telling the lady that she was out of mint, which was bartender speak for "I don't want to make your fucking mojito," but she thought better of it: business was business, and she needed the tip. The woman slid a twenty-dollar bill across the counter.

"Keep the change," she said with a wink.

King murmured a quiet thank you as she took the money and turned away to gather the ingredients. She set to work, all the while thinking about how much she actually hated making mojitos.

"Hey, Boss?"

A moment later Sally appeared at King's side, her voice laced with something King couldn't quite place.

"Hm?"  
"I think there's something weird going on at one of the tables."  
King distractedly reached for a cocktail shaker. "Weird how?"  
"Turn around and look," Sally told her in a hushed voice.

King shifted as she started shaking the drink so she could see what Sally was talking about: A man, whom she had seen at Illusion semi-regularly, and a pretty woman dressed in a skin-tight Captain Marvel outfit were sitting together, clearly in the middle of what appeared to be a very awkward conversation.

"Don't make it obvious that you're looking!" Sally said as she lightly nudged King's ribs.  
"Right, but  _what_  am I looking at?"  
"She just seems really uncomfortable. ...Maybe I should go talk to them?"  
"It's probably just a bad date or something," King replied tiredly. She watched as Captain Marvel excused herself and headed toward the bathroom. "How many of those do we see in here?"

King finished making the first mojito and quickly started on the second. Sally squeezed her arm as soon as she started mulling the ingredients.

"Oh my god --!"  
" _What_?!"  
" -- he just dropped something in her drink!"

King instantly whirled around to turn her full attention to the man at the table: He was shoving something in his pocket.

"Sally." King pressed her lips together before speaking again. "Go keep her from coming back out here. Elizabeth! I need you to take over this drink!"

"What are you making?" Elizabeth stomped over, visibly annoyed.  
"Mojito. Here." King never once took her eyes off of the man as she shoved the glass and muddler in to Elizabeth's hands.  
"What are you going to do?" Sally asked nervously.

King reached for a tiny glass, along with a nearby bottle of white rum. "I --" she poured a shot -- "am going to go  _talk_  to him." She downed the liquor and slammed the glass on the counter.

"Oh shit," Elizabeth muttered under her breath.  
"Please don't get too carried away," Sally warned. She hurriedly ran to the bathroom.

King stepped out from behind the counter, fuming. This wasn't the first time she had been made aware of somebody slipping drugs into a drink (and it probably wouldn't be the last) but she found herself more incensed by it than she thought possible. In the past she had kept almost eerily calm as she dislocated shoulders and broke the collar bones of would-be rapists, but, this time, she was practically seeing red. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves; she put them on very deliberately as she approached the small table.

"Oh, hey!" The man smiled up at King. "Can I get another Black and Tan, please?"  
"No," King answered simply.  
"Are you cutting me off? I'm not even drunk!"  
"Congratulations. Hey -- was that GHB, ecstasy, or rohypnol you just put in that drink?"  
"I - what?"  
"You heard me."  
"I didn't -- I don't know what you're talking about," the man stammered.  
"I'm not in the mood for this," King declared, a little louder than intended. She grabbed the customer by his hair and banged his face into the table: he shouted in pain, which she found deeply entertaining.

"Get up!"

King roughly pulled the man out of his seat: she jerked his head downward as she swiftly brought her knee up; it connected with his face, instantly bloodying his nose. She threw another knee as a bonus before tossing him to the floor and stepping on his groin. She made sure to put all one-hundred twenty-six pounds of her weight in her one foot.

"Not tonight, asshole!" King shouted over the customer's agonized screams. "Not  _EVER_! Do you understand?!" She stomped his crotch as hard as she could with the sadistic hope that she would rupture one or both testicles.  
"I don't -- I won't -- please!"  
"Shut up!"

King swiftly kicked the man in his side, just under his ribs. She followed up with another kick that was much harder than the first. She wondered how many other women had fallen prey to this man. Were they as broken as she was? Her eyes went wide as she thought of the things that would have happened to the poor woman in the restroom had she not intervened. If Sally hadn't seen anything, King would have continued making that goddamn mojito, and Captain Marvel would have been rendered completely helpless by whatever the hell was in her drink. She'd have left with this man, and then...

Tears stung the corners of King's eyes and her breath caught in her throat. Just like that she was back in that horrible room, under that monster, being stripped of her dignity all over again. She remembered his voice  _so_  clearly and she remembered what he said and she remembered how she couldn't breathe and she remembered each and every horrid sensation as he ripped her to shreds. Briefly stunned by the intensely vivid memories, she recovered her faculties just enough to kick the man a third time before taking a step back. She leaned on the table, painfully aware that everyone in the bar was watching her.

"Boss! Are you okay?!" Sally exclaimed as she emerged from the bathroom.  
"Is  _she_  okay?!" The man on the floor blubbered in disbelief as he struggled to sit up. "Look what she did to me!"  
"I… Je peux pas," King croaked. She savagely kicked the customer directly in his face, knocking him backwards (and possibly unconscious) before rushing to the office. She thought she heard someone call out behind her, but she didn't bother to look back.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit shit!"

King dashed to the private lavatory: She quickly locked the door, sat down with her back against it, and placed both hands over her mouth. She let out a muffled sob as she violently began to break down.

"Kingy?!"

Mai's frantic voice unexpectedly came from the other side of the door.

Mai, who was supposed to meet King at the bar for a drink to celebrate her recent move.  _Damn it_.

"King!?" Mai called out as she pounded on the door. "Answer me!"

King made an attempt to compose herself as she stood up, but it wasn't working very well. Without a word she threw the door open: Mai was standing right outside, a look of sheer horror on her pretty face.

"What --"  
"I... I think I'm freaking out," King sobbed. "I can't… he was going to…! He deserved it!"  
"Breathe!" Mai gripped King's arms and looked up in to her face. It was a little awkward because of their height difference but she managed to make eye contact with her anyway. "Just breathe, okay?"

The door flew open then, and Elizabeth barged in. King quickly turned her head downward and hoped that her hair would help obscure her face, which was blotchy and stained with running makeup and tears.

"What is going  _on_?!" Elizabeth asked as she placed a hand on her waist. "That was incredibly out of line, even for you!"  
" _GET OUT_!" King yelled.

Mai jumped, startled by King's outburst. Elizabeth frowned, but did as she was told. King began weeping as soon as the door closed. What the hell was happening to her?! She hadn't been this hysterical since… well, at all, really. She had her moments, sure, but they were  _nothing_  compared to  _this_.

"Breathe. You're okay. You're  _okay_ ," Mai assured her.  
"Please stop telling me that I'm okay!" King exclaimed. "Je vais pas bien --!"  
"English, Kingy!"

King swallowed hard as she tried to get her thoughts in order. Everything was coming to her in a peculiar mix of rapidfire French and English; she was going to have to work extra hard to convert it all to just English for the sake of having a halfway coherent conversation, but it was proving difficult.

"Désolé… Je… need… I - c'est… S-sorry! I'm so sorry!"  
"Why are you apologizing?!"  
"I don't know! I don't know what's happening!" King cried desperately. "He… he could have -- in the car, or behind the dumpster or --! He would have -- she'd  _never_  be able to get him out of her head, just like… like…! Putain de bordel de merde!"

King unintentionally lapsed into French again. She was hit with thought after fragmented thought about what happened to  _her_ : private things she never wanted to think about ever again - things that only she understood - began to spill out in a chaotic flurry of broken speech.

"He-he… I never… not like  _that_  -"  
"Kingy -!"  
"- C'était vraiment… ...g-gross! I-I -- He made me --!"  
" _Breathe_!"  
"That… that fucker outside!"

All of a sudden King was overcome by a renewed sense of rage. The idea of going back out front and unloading some more on the already battered man was so  _very_  appealing. Hurting someone like that would  _definitely_  make her feel better. She shrugged out of Mai's grasp, adjusted her gloves, and started toward the door.

"I should go…! Back! And -!"

"Kingy, listen to me," Mai protested as she deftly jumped in King's path. She awkwardly grasped her shoulders and looked at her with an intensity that was almost alarming. " _That_.  _won't_.  _help_."

"Oh, but it  _will_!" King growled. She wiped her face, which smudged ruined eye makeup across her cheek, and tried to slip out of Mai's hold. Mai, however, wasn't budging: She increased the pressure on King's shoulders and firmly planted her feet.

"Kingy, I understand --"  
" _Bullshit_!" King shouted tearfully.  
"-- but you have to calm down! You can't go out there like this!"  
"Like hell I can't!"  
" _Cécile_!"  
"Don't! Don't call me that!"  
"Then  _listen_  to me," Mai told her. "You  _have_   _to_  calm  _down_! People are out there wondering what's going on with you right now! You can't let them see you like this!"

Mai was right: The patrons outside were probably speculating wildly about why the normally calm owner of the establishment flipped out so badly. The twins were probably right there with them, now aware that something was very, very wrong with their boss.

Goddamnit!

King let out a choked whimper and tensed up as Mai pulled her close. She buried her face in her friend's shoulder and held on to her like a lifeline as she cried her eyes out.

"Shh, shh, shhh. Don't, okay?"  
"What is  _happening_  to me?"  
"Just keep breathing, Kingy..."

After a moment King let go of Mai and slumped in the desk chair, defeated. She held her head in her hands and let out a shaky breath.

"I really thought… I thought that coming back here would be a  _good_  thing. If I could just try to get back to normal, then… maybe... And then I tried to simplify it -- tried to tell myself that it was just… that it didn't mean anything. I got beat up -- that was it. Not the first fight I've lost, right?"  
"Kingy…"  
"I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Who even  _am_  I anymore?!"  
"You're King, of course," Mai told her. "And you're the strongest woman I know."

King covered her face and let out a deep sigh. She was so exhausted; she wanted nothing more than to hide under her covers, in the safety of her home. However, she had to wonder if she was  _really_  safe: Mary warned her to watch her back, as Big's syndicate was becoming more active. Would he really go after her again? Was it worth his precious time to torment her some more, or had he washed his hands of the situation? She literally had no way of knowing, outside of marching straight up to L'Amour and asking him herself. It was beyond unsettling.

"Hey…"

Mai's hand on King's shoulder snapped her out of her reverie. She uncovered her face and briefly looked up at Mai before switching her gaze to the floor, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed of her behaviour.

"How the hell am I going to go back out there? What do I  _do_?"  
"We'll figure it out. Come wash your face."

Mai gently pulled King out of her seat and lead her back to the bathroom, where she turned on the faucet. King caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and pressed her lips together. The amount of self-loathing she felt was astounding.

"I know that look," Mai hesitantly put a hand on King's back. "Don't you dare think like that."

With a frown, King removed her gloves. Mai was always so perceptive -- it bordered on supernatural.

"Don't hate yourself," Mai went on. "You're having a rough time, and it  _sucks_ , and I know I can't make you any less sad -- otherwise I  _totally_ would -- but you know what? You stopped something terrible from happening tonight. You should at least let yourself be glad about that."

King didn't say anything as she splashed water on her face: She quickly started rubbing away the black splotches under her eyes. Mai  _did_  have a point - she  _had_  stopped something terrible from happening. While she felt satisfied knowing that Raper McGoo would probably have to have his nethers surgically repaired because of her, she had to wonder what would happen to Captain Marvel now. Would she be okay, or would this night haunt her for the rest of her life? King couldn't afford to think about that, though. She had the villains in her  _own_  head to contend with; worrying about somebody else's would probably drive her mad. She leaned heavily on the sink and loudly exhaled as water dripped off of her. She stared hard at her reflection as she formulated a plan: She was going to pull herself together. She was going to pull herself together, and, then, once that was accomplished, she was going to go back out front, chat with the cops (who had no doubt been called by now) and then, once they were gone?

She was going to get hammered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet search history has probably landed me on a watch-list thanks to this chapter. Here's the rundown:
> 
> * If, for some reason, you have not heard of Overwatch, it's a team-based FPS from Blizzard. Mercy is the angel.  
> * The average price of a mojito is about eight dollars (US, of course). So, two mojitos would be sixteen bucks. "Mercy" is tipping King 25% for the drinks, which is a little higher than the recommended amount to tip a bartender, which is 20%.  
> * Apparently, a lot of bartenders actually do hate making mojitos, because they're a bit of a pain in the ass.  
> * Captain Marvel: Carol Danvers, yo. She's gonna fuck Thanos up.  
> * In a lot of King's pre-fight intros, and, also, in the KOF XIV comic, she's always putting on/adjusting her gloves. I had to include this mannerism. Had to.  
> * Black and Tans are layered beer drinks that are actually pretty weak. Gee, why was the dude drinking a weak drink?  
> * According to RAINN, GHB, ecstasy, and rohypnol are the most common date rape drugs.  
> * King's vital stats for KOF XIV list her as weighing 130 lbs (59kg). However, she hasn't eaten right in a month; she's lost a little weight.  
> * King's French: Remember, emotional extremes. Let's run it down: Je peux pas = I can't (literally I can not); Je vais pas bien = I'm not okay; Désolé = Sorry; Je = I; C'est = it's/ it is; Putain de bordel de merde = holy fucking shit/holy fuck; C'était vraiment = it was really (You don't want to know what she's talking about. Please do not ask me.)  
> * L'Amour was the restaurant King worked at for Mr. Big in the first Art of Fighting.
> 
> Okay, so that's that for now. As always, don't be afraid to let me know what you're thinking. Cake and grief counseling will be available on a first-come, first-serve basis. See you next time (I hope)!


	10. It Always Rains on a Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. You guys still here? Cool. Remember, King and Jean's surname is not canon.

"Céc?"

King raised her eyebrows and slowly turned to face her brother, who was looking at her with a somewhat strange expression.

"...Yes?"  
"You're acting really weird." Jean frowned as he lowered the volume on the car stereo. "Weirder than usual, I mean."  
"I am?"  
"Pfft, yeah. You look… I dunno. Sad or something."  
"I'm just… tired…"

"Tired" was probably the wrong word.

Having a nervous breakdown at work took a heavy toll on King, who was fully convinced she had cried out every ounce of energy she possessed. As a result, she spent the first half of her day laying in bed, unable to sleep, but unable to really move, either. The time was used staring at her ceiling and haphazardly petting Marron, all the while ignoring phone calls and text messages, and thinking about how lucky she was that she hadn't been arrested for aggravated assault: Imagining what would have happened had "Captain Marvel's" drink not tested positive for drugs was nerve wracking. One of the officers assured her that she was on "thin ice" before they took off, which had only fueled her desire to get a little drunk. Although she hadn't gotten  _terribly_  fucked up, she was still suffering from a pretty legit physical hangover on top of her emotional one. It wasn't until Jean called to remind her that he was supposed to spend the night at her place that she found even the slightest motivation to get up.

As the siblings sat in the long line for the In-N-Out drive-thru, King couldn't help zoning out a little. She leaned against the hot steering wheel and, without even realizing it, very subtly bobbed her head to the beat of the music playing on the stereo. Meanwhile, Jean continued to scrutinize her, his face screwed up with concern.

"'Tired' doesn't mean 'okay,' though…"  
"...I have a hangover," King finally admitted with a yawn.  
"Oh. Well why didn't you just say that?"  
"Because I'm hungover."  
"Ah."

After a few minutes the employee at the drive-thru approached the car. She flashed a big smile as she asked for King's order.

"I'll have two cheeseburgers -- no onions -- two orders of fries, one neapolitan milkshake, and one chocolate milkshake please."

Jean stared at his sister, his mouth agape. The woman gave King her total and moved on to the next vehicle.

"Did you just order a  _cheeseburger_?!" Jean practically shrieked.

Under normal circumstances King would have laughed at her brother's reaction, but her state of mind was far too damaged to find humour in anything. Instead, she briefly pressed her lips together and shrugged her shoulders as she once again leaned on the steering wheel.

"Yeah."  
"Why?!"  
"Because I'm hungry."  
"But you're a vegetarian!"  
"There's lettuce on it."

King released some of the pressure on the brake so she could inch the car forward, totally unfazed by Jean's reaction to her breaking her diet. There was a small part of her that wished she had just flaked out on their plans, but she knew she wouldn't have been able to do that to Jean: he would have been crushed (and Aunt Maddy would have been  _pissed_ ). King made a face; the two were going to have an interesting time together.

 

###

 

"This is amazing!" King exclaimed after swallowing a huge bite of her cheeseburger. She wasn't sure if she was referring to the taste of the food or the fact that she was even eating it in the first place. Jean squinted at her from across the dining room table as if he had never seen her before.

"What?" King used her napkin to wipe her mouth.  
"Yep, you're acting weirder than normal today," Jean replied. He paused to take a sip of his milkshake. "What made you decide to break the streak, anyway?"  
"Self-destructive impulses," King answered without missing a beat. She grimaced; sometimes she was just too honest for her own good.  
"'Self-destructive'? Céc, what's going on? Are you okay?"

King furrowed her brow. She was beginning to hate that question.

"I'm fine. It's just… grown-up stuff."  
"Like what? I can handle it."  
"It's… a little  _too_  personal, kiddo..."

The pair fell silent as they continued eating. Every now and then Jean would look over at his big sister, a million and one questions very obviously on the tip of his tongue. King tried her best to appear at least reasonably okay, but she knew she was failing miserably.

"What are you thinking about?" Jean asked suddenly. It was an unexpected question, one that King didn't really know how to answer. She had to be careful about what she said; one wrong sentence and -

"I almost got arrested last night," she blurted out around a mouthful of french fries. That was definitely not the answer she planned on giving.  
"What?! How come?!"

King sighed; she reluctantly shared some of the details of her shift, making sure to leave out the more horrific bits. Jean didn't need to know about  _how_  badly she had beaten the man, nor did he need to know how traumatic the experience ended up being for her. Luckily, omitting those things was very easy to do. When she was done she rested her chin on her hands, surprised by how good it felt to get a little bit of that stuff off her chest and out into the open.

"So, if everything turned out okay, why did you get drunk?" Jean asked.  
"I was… celebrating," King said slowly. "I had a glass of wine and then Captain Marvel insisted that I do a shot with her. And then one shot turned into three… and then three turned into..."  
"Lush."

King smirked and playfully tossed a french fry at Jean; he caught it and threw it back at her. It was so weird: she felt absolutely horrible, but, somehow, Jean being there with her was actually helping to snap her out of her funk. Although it would be awhile before she felt like a person again, hanging out with her brother was a nice change of pace.

"Let's watch a movie," King suggested before taking one final bite of her cheeseburger. She gathered her trash and stood up. She was hopeful that staring at a screen and getting lost in somebody else's plight for two hours while in good company would do wonders for her mood.

"Can I pick?"  
"Sure," King said as she threw her garbage away. She started toward her bedroom. "I'm changing. I'll be back."

 

###

 

"Céc?"

King felt her leg move slightly. She opened her eyes, somewhat confused: She was curled up in her usual spot on the sofa and it was dark outside, the only light in the room coming from the television, which displayed a black screen with small white words scrolling upward. Jean's lanky frame leaned down toward her, his hand on her ankle.

"What --?"  
"You fell asleep," her brother told her. "Like, twenty minutes in."  
"...Oh." King sat up and stretched her arms over her head. She didn't even remember laying down. "How was it?"  
"It was really good," Jean replied as he turned on the lights. "Too bad you missed it."  
"I can stream it another time," King said with a yawn. "What time is it?"  
"Eight-something. Oh, you got a ton of text messages and Mai called."

King stood up and grabbed her cell phone: The text message Badge App Icon was in double digits, as was the one hovering over the green and white phone symbol. She already knew who the messages were from: after all, she had been ignoring them for literally the entire day.

"...What'd Mai want?"  
"She said to have you call her as soon as possible. And to make sure to give you extra hugs today."  
"Great..."

Jean picked up a half-full bowl of popcorn and began walking it to the kitchen but stopped.

"Marron," he said simply.

King turned to see her cat on the counter. She frowned; he was trained not to jump on any tables, countertops, or sinks. But there he was, sitting on the unread mail, batting at a pen.

"I have him," Jean told her. As soon as Marron was grabbed he stretched his back legs out; his dull claws dragged on one of several unopened envelopes, which sent them, and a thick folder, cascading to the floor: Papers with sensitive information on them spilled out everywhere. Horrified, King immediately dashed forward as Jean stooped to start picking everything up.

"Sorry!"  
"No, it's fine!" King knelt across from Jean and quickly started gathering everything. "I have it! You go and get rid of the popcorn."

Jean was already holding several sheets by the time King got the words out. He looked down at the topmost one and furrowed his brow.

"Southtown General Hospital? Céc, what is this?"  
"It's nothing, nosy!"

King tried to grab the paper but Jean quickly snatched it out of her reach. She knew exactly what was on it: her full name, vital stats, and exact time and date of her hospital visit were all neatly typed out; underneath it all was a summary for everything that was wrong with her that night. She made another attempt to take the page but Jean held it away from her.

"'Issues addressed this visit," he read loudly. "Mild concussion... cracked ribs… multiple contusions…? Lack-uh-ration from blunt-force -- what's a lack-uh-ration?"  
"Laceration," King quietly corrected him. Her voice shook. "A bad cut."  
"Oh. 'Patient was se --"  
"That's enough!"

King lunged forward and forcefully took the sheet from Jean's hand. She felt her cheeks flush as realization dawned on him.

"You weren't sick." Jean's tone was deadpan, completely devoid of emotion.  
"Jean, I..."  
" _Céc_."  
"No," King choked after a minute. This was bad. This was really, really bad.  
"I KNEW IT!"  
"What?!"

"You were always so weird on the phone! Every time I tried to talk to you you just sounded... off!"  
"Because --"

Jean picked up another sheet of paper and jumped to his feet.

"Patient is to start Ibuprofen, eight-hundred milligrams! Percocet two point five over point three twenty-five! Cephalexin five-hundred milligrams! Céc, what the hell is this?!"

King stood up as well, unsure of what to say. She pressed her lips together in a thin line; she wasn't ready for this.

"You promised you wouldn't keep anymore secrets after you stopped working for the Big Bad!" Jean exclaimed angrily.  
"I know!"  
"So… what then?!"  
"Jean, I don't…" King felt tears stinging her eyes. She straightened her back and took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about it," she said after a moment.  
"You don't wanna talk about it?! You've been lying to me -- to  _me_! -- this whole time! We're  _gonna_  talk about it!"

King turned away and ran a hand through her hair, frustrated at herself. She should have thrown that folder in the incinerator when she had the chance. Nevertheless, she needed to find a way to get Jean to leave things alone. At least for the time being.

"Jean, listen. I… I didn't want to lie to you, but --"  
" _Bullshit_!"  
"Language!"

King was suddenly dangerously close to getting very angry: How dare her brother curse at her like that?! And how dare he presume to interrogate her?! She needed to shut the conversation down -- and  _fast_. Besides, she was the adult, not Jean. And if she didn't want to tell him yet, she didn't have to. It was big sister privilege, goddamnit!

"Look --" King turned to face Jean -- "I'm not  _obligated_  to tell you anything! I told you I don't want to talk about it and we're going to leave it at that!"  
"No! No, we're not leaving it at that!"  
"I already told you to drop it!"  
"Cracked ribs?! Multiple contusions?! Prescriptions for antibiotics and narcotics?! What happened to you?!"

King took a deep breath. How could she even explain herself? There was nothing she could say that would make this okay. She was going to have to come clean -- mostly. She would tell Jean as little as she could until she was ready to reveal the rest.

"I… I lost a fight. I lost a fight, and I didn't want you to see. Can we please not talk about this anymore?!"  
"We tell each other everything, Céc! I've seen you lose fights before, so why?! Why didn't you --"  
" _LAISSE TOMBER, JEAN_!"

King immediately threw a hand over her mouth. She couldn't recall the last time she had yelled at Jean like that -- if ever. She took a tiny step backward as the tears threatened to come again. She watched Jean's expression change from surprised to hurt to indignant all in the span of a second.

" _JE PEUX AUSSI CRIER EN FRANÇAIS_!"

Jean tossed the medical record on the table before crossing his arms over his chest. He glared at his sister, his jaw set. There was a long silence as King tried to collect herself. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry…!"  
"Whatever," Jean grumbled. "You're only saying that because you got caught."  
"That's not true! I just didn't…"

King trailed off as she lowered herself onto the floor to finish picking up the mess. She didn't know what to do; Jean was so angry and hurt by her actions. She should have just told him from the beginning -- he would have understood. She felt an intense surge of anger at herself for being so goddamn stupid and selfish.

"You didn't what?!" Jean asked after a moment.  
"I didn't want you to know…"  
"Fine. You didn't want me to know. That's all you had to say! But, instead, you decided to lie about it! And for what?!"

King stayed silent. Jean was one-hundred percent right, after all. She let out a deep sigh and shut her eyes; she suddenly had a massive headache. She gathered a few more papers before taking a quick look at Jean: his eyes were wide -- wider than King had ever seen them -- and fixed on something not too far from her, his face pale. King knitted her brows, what was he looking a --  _oh shit_.

King's own eyes widened as she realized what the thing that caught her brother's attention was. About a foot away from her was a pamphlet that read, in big, bold letters:  _Sexual Assault and Rape: An Act of Violence_. King quickly snatched the handout and threw it into the back of the folder. She could practically hear her heart beating in her ears as she swallowed hard.

"Céc…?"

Jean's voice was so quiet that King barely heard him. She opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out. All at once she felt like she was drowning in shame, fear, and anger. She cleared her throat and kept her gaze firmly locked on the floor in front of her.

"Yeah, so... the most... fucked up thing hap --"

Without a word Jean bounded forward; he threw his arms around King and held on to her tightly. She tried to keep herself from crying, but, before she knew it, tears were quietly streaming down her face. She hugged her brother back, more unsure of what to say to him than ever before: The Levasseur siblings silently clung to each other on the dining room floor, both unsure of what to say.

And it was all because of the cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should have named this chapter "whump."
> 
> * In-N-Out Burger is the most awesome burger joint in California. There's a secret menu that has neapolitan shakes. Also. the lines are almost always hella long.  
> * The medications Jean reads off are, well, the medications that would be given to someone in King's situation. Percocet and Ibupfren for pain, antibiotics to preemptively treat infection. I know, ew.  
> * Laisse tomber = just drop it. Je peux aussi crier en francais = I can yell/shout in French, too


	11. Paper Thin Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update? So soon?! What is going on?! Rest assured, this streak isn't going to stay this strong, haha. More notes at the end. Onward!

Three fifty-six AM.

The light from the phone’s small screen illuminated the dark living room and slightly strained King’s eyes as she checked the hour, a little annoyed that she had woken up three times. Her neck was cramping from being in an awkward upright position, and her left arm was almost completely numb, but she didn’t dare move: Jean was sound asleep next to her, his head on her shoulder and his arm limply draped over her. The pair had stayed up talking about the assault, the lies, and everything else in between until well after midnight. Jean had all kinds of questions for King, some more difficult to answer than others. Part of her was relieved that she didn’t have to lie to her brother anymore, but the other part of her felt an enormous sense of unease over discussing such an “adult” topic with him. While it was true that he was very mature for his age, there was still something intensely disconcerting about talking to a twelve-year old boy about being violently beaten and raped. 

On the whole, King had done a good job of holding herself together during the long conversation, but there were a few moments where she felt as though nothing would ever be okay again. It was during one of those instances that she tried to excuse herself, but the second she turned to walk away Jean had thrown his arms around her from behind and declared that he would never let her go. Even as she stepped forward Jean stayed firmly wrapped around her, making the short trek to her sofa awkward, and almost comical, even. He affirmed that he understood why she did what she did; he knew she was scared, but he still loved her no matter what, and he could never see her as anything but his big sister: the strongest woman in the world.

King leaned her head back against the sofa as she used her fingerprint to unlock her phone. She supposed she would spend her time awake sifting through the dozens of correspondences she received over the course of the previous day:  Mary, Yuri, Mai, and Sally had all sent multiple text messages and voicemails, each probably asking some variation of the question, “Are you okay?” King frowned at the device, her eyelids suddenly very heavy. She had no idea where to start.

  


###

 

It was light outside when King’s eyes snapped open. She looked around, momentarily panicked: She was still on the sofa, but she was no longer sitting up, and a fleece throw had been placed over her. Her cheeks were wet, and Marron was asleep at her feet. The distinct smell of scrambled eggs hung heavy in the air.

With a quiet sigh, King sat up and wiped her face with her sleeves. She was so sick of dreaming about that afternoon. Or evening. Or whatever the hell time it was when everything went down. She was sick of trying to sleep only to be woken up by those feelings of absolute fear, and she was sick of recalling how he said her name over and over as he taunted her. _“En français, Cécile!”_ was a phrase she never wanted to hear again.

“Céc!”   
  
Jean stuck his head out of the kitchen. He disappeared briefly before coming out with a plate of strangely coloured, beat up looking scrambled eggs. There was a huge smile on his face.

“I made breakfast!”  
“O-oh,” King blinked a few times as she tried to adjust to being awake while Jean put the eggs on the coffee table in front of her. She pushed her hair out of her face; several strands clung to her damp skin.  
  
“Céc, were you crying? What’s wrong?” Jean asked as he looked into his sister’s face.   
“It’s nothing.”   
“Céc.”   
“It was just a bad dream…”

Jean looked at King with a very sad expression as he handed her a fork. “Is there anything I can do?”  
“... you can tell me what’s in these eggs,” King replied.  
“Okay! It’s onions, cheese, and avocado!”

King looked at the plate with apprehension: the avocado had been mashed and cooked into the eggs, which explained why they looked so weird. She wasn’t exactly excited about eating it, but she was appreciative all the same.   
  
“I’m going to use the bathroom, and then I’ll come out and eat,” King told her brother as she rose from the couch.   
“It’s gonna get cold.”  
“I’ll be quick.”

King ruffled Jean’s hair before making her way to the bathroom. She had barely finished up when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, Céc?” Jean called from outside the room.  
“Hunh?!”   
“Yuri is on the phone and she’s kinda freaking out.”  
“I’ll call her back!”  
“She’ll call you back,” King heard Jean say. There was a pause, and then, “She says she needs to talk to you literally right now or she’ll die.”

King made a face as she reached for her toothbrush. Yuri was going to have to wait at least two minutes.

“Céc, are you done yet?!” Jean called after about thirty seconds.  
“Mrrrmph!”  
“No, she’s not done.”

There was a weird stretch of silence as King finished brushing her teeth. She took a swig of mouthwash before opening the door: Jean was standing with the phone in his outstretched hand. King mumbled a somewhat perplexed thank you as she took it from him.

“Hello…?”  
“King-san!” Yuri’s voice was anxious and there was a very pronounced background noise that indicated that she was driving. “King-san, I need you to listen to me, okay?!”   
“Okay...?”   
“I was… I mean -- he kinda found out! He kinda found out and he’s on his way over there, and I’m on my way, too, but --”  
“Who found out _what_?” King asked cautiously as she walked back to the living room. She had a sinking feeling that she already knew exactly who and exactly what. Almost as if on cue there was a loud banging on the front door, followed by the doorbell, followed by even more banging.

“KING!”

King’s breath caught as soon as she heard Ryo Sakazaki’s voice. She looked over at Jean, who appeared startled, and then to the door, and back to Jean again.

“Yuri, _what_ did he find out?!”   
“Listen! I slipped! I accidentally mentioned Big but --” 

There was another loud knock and more shouting.

“What the hell is going on?!” King exclaimed as she pulled the door open. There was Ryo, standing in the hall, looking absolutely pissed off. He immediately rushed into the apartment and turned to face King, who was still holding the phone up to her ear.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!”   
“What --?!”

King felt her face flush. She was almost immediately overcome by a feeling of nausea as she tightened her grip on the phone.  
  
“You fucking _told_ him?!” She exclaimed as she turned away from Ryo.  
“King-san! Listen to me --”  
“Yeah, she told me,” Ryo cut in. “She told me everything!”

King dropped the phone, completely speechless. Yuri had promised her that she would never say anything to anyone -- especially not Ryo. How could she?! King stared at the floor, dumbfounded, as Yuri suddenly rounded the corner and sprinted down the hall, into the apartment, her face red and her hair disheveled. She stuffed her phone, which was gripped firmly in her hand, in her pocket before running up to King.

“Uhhh… hey, everyone,” Jean said sheepishly as he stooped to retrieve the telephone from the floor.  
  
“King-san!” Yuri grabbed King’s shoulders. “Don’t --!”   
“Don’t talk to me,” King snapped, her temper rising. She whirled around to face Ryo. “And how dare you come barging into my apartment like this!? A phone call would have been more than sufficient!”   
“I think something like this warrants an in-person conversation!” Ryo replied heatedly.   
“It doesn’t warrant a conversation at all!”   
“How can you say that?!”  
  
King balled her hands into fists: She was so hurt, and so angry, and _so_ embarrassed. She wanted desperately to hit something. Or hide. Or both.   
  
“Honestly, King, why would you keep this to yourself?!”  
“Why _wouldn’t_ I keep it to myself?!” King asked incredulously. “It’s kind of a personal subject, don’t you think?!”  
“A personal subject?! King! Nothing is personal when it comes to something like this!”  
“ _EVERYTHING_ is personal when it comes to something like this!”

King’s voice cracked slightly. She felt the familiar sting of tears forming and took a deep breath. Jean immediately rushed over and lightly squeezed her arm. “Du calme,” he whispered.

“King-san,” Yuri ventured. “You have it all wrong! You --”  
“You should have told me,” Ryo interjected. “I wouldn’t have --”  
“Wouldn’t have _what_?!” King asked. “Called me weak?! Or called me a whore?! You’d still think it, though, so what does it matter?!”

Ryo quirked a brow while Yuri threw her hands on top of her head, her expression not unlike someone who just watched their favourite football team lose the Super Bowl.

“What are you talking about? Why would I call you weak?! And a whore?! What --?!”

“Hi, Yuri!” Jean practically screamed very cheerfully. It was painfully obvious that he was trying to create some kind of distraction.  
“Hi, Jean!” Yuri replied, just as loud.   
  
King felt a pit in her stomach. What the hell was going on?   
  
“Seriously, King,” Ryo said, clearly confused. “What are you even talking about?”  
“What… are _you_ even talking about?” King asked slowly.   
“I’m talking about Big’s guys! The ones you fought off!”   
“Wh-what?”   
“The ones. you. fought. _off_ !” Yuri said through gritted teeth. She discreetly nodded at King, who stood frozen in place as realization dawned on her. Yuri hadn’t quite told her brother “everything,” as he had said. He still didn’t know about _it_ .   
  
But now he probably had some sort of clue, thanks to King’s misunderstanding of the situation. She was going to have to start making shit up so she could cover her tracks.   
  
“Oh. That! Yeah, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was important.”   
“You always need to tell me when it comes to Big!”   
“I beg your fucking pardon?!” King exclaimed, abruptly angered by Ryo’s phrasing. “I don’t _need_ to tell you _anything_ !”   
“When it comes to this, you kind of do!”   
“No, I kind of _don’t_ !”  
  
King narrowed her eyes; she didn’t like being told what to do, especially not by men who thought they knew better than her. And who was Ryo to come charging into her apartment like this in the first place, anyway? When it came down to it the whole reason he was there was because she hadn’t told him something, and it was kind of bullshit.

“Look, when it comes to Big you’ve gotta --”  
“Gotta what? You can’t _make_ me tell you a damn thing if I don’t want to!”   
“But why wouldn’t you want to tell me about that?!”   
“I don’t know, maybe it’s the same reason I wouldn’t want to tell you that I was ra --”

“HEY CÉC!”

Jean jumped between King and Ryo, almost like a shield, his expression manic.  
  
“YOU NEVER ATE YOUR EGGS!”  
“Wouldn’t want to tell me that you were what?” Ryo asked.  
“YOU MADE EGGS?!” Yuri chimed in.   
“Eggs?” King echoed in disbelief. That was one hell of a Freudian slip she had just made. She pressed her lips together, thankful for Jean’s quick thinking, but how was she going to get out of this one?!

“Here!” Jean grabbed King’s hand and dragged her over to the living room, where the plate of sad-looking eggs still sat on the coffee table. “Qu’est-ce que tu fais, Céc?! Tu parles trop!”  
  
“Wait,” Ryo said as he followed King and Jean. “What wouldn’t you want to tell me?”   
“It’s _nothing_ !” King said as Jean sat her down.   
  
“Brother!” Yuri grabbed Ryo’s arm. “Why don’t we leave King-san and Jean alone? I’m sure they want to hang out without us coming in here all crazy-like! Right you guys?!”   
“Right,” King said bluntly.  
“...You’re acting _really_ weird lately,” Ryo commented. He regarded King as if she was the most foreign, out of place thing he had ever seen.   
“Maybe being holed up in my apartment for a month has made me a little weird,” King growled as she violently jammed her fork into a particularly large piece of stone-cold egg. “Now do me a favour and get the hell _out_ !”  
“But --”   
“ _Va-t’en_ !” King pointed a finger at the door.  
“Come on,” Yuri told her brother. “She wants us out, so let’s --”   
“Non, non,” King interrupted. “ _You_ stay.”   
  
Yuri pointed a finger at herself and mouthed, “Me?”   
“Yes, you. Bye, Ryo.”  
“W-wait! You can’t just say something like that and then throw me out!”  
“Yes,” King said, annoyed. “I can. I _did_ . Now _go_.”

Ryo frowned. He opened his mouth to protest but immediately closed it again. He walked to the door and looked back at King.

“Fine. Have it your way. But, mark my words, I’m gonna get to the bottom of this!”  
“Bonne chance.”

King watched as Ryo finally exited the apartment. As soon as the door closed she let out a huge sigh. This was the absolute last thing she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill:
> 
> *First off, Yuri was unaware that Jean knew King's secret, which is why she didn't have him relay any information to her while she was on hold.  
> *En français, Cécile! = In French, Cécile! (But you knew that one already, right?)  
> *It is recommended by dentists everywhere that you brush your teeth for two minutes.  
> *Du calme = Stay calm  
> *Qu'est-ce que tu fais = What the hell are you doing? Tu parles trop = You're talking too much/You talk too much  
> *Va-t'en = Go away  
> *Non, non = no, no. (But you knew this one too, right?)  
> *Bonne chance = good luck
> 
> Come back next time for more angsty shenanigans, okay?


	12. Willful Suspension Of Disbelief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the long time between this update and the last one. I haven't forgotten about you guys or this story, I promise! Onward~!

The gym inside the large Southtown PD building was small, and cluttered with top of the line workout equipment that mostly went unused by a majority of the officers. Decorated in various shades of grey and blue, the area wasn’t the most ideal space for sparring matches, and yet, King found herself in the cramped room, battling it out against Mary in an impromptu practice bout designed to help her channel her negative emotions into something a little more constructive.

“You know you can’t run from this forever, right, bb? Spin Fall!”

Mary jumped forward and brought her leg down toward King, who sighed as she dodged the maneuver. She threw a high kick that was quickly blocked.

“Look, all I have to do is avoid Ryo for as long as I can --” King sidestepped a straight jab -- “and then I’ll die.”  
“Pffft, _that’s_ not going to happen.”  
“Sure it will,” King said as she went for Mary’s ankle with a sliding kick. The hit connected and Mary stumbled briefly before regaining her footing.  
  
“Ow! You’re gonna pay for that one!”  
“Not likely.”  
  
“Seriously, though --” Mary tried to hit King with a spinning back hand -- “you should just face this head-on.”  
“Yeah, _no_ ,” King replied as she countered Mary’s blow with a quick knee to her side. “If any of those assholes find out what _really_ happened --”  
“Ass  _holes_ ? Plural?”  
“Yeah. Ryo, Robert, and Ryo’s dad.”  
“Ah. So, let’s say they _do_ find out,” Mary said as she hopped backward. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well,” King charged forward and tried to catch Mary with a swift kick to her mid-section that missed. She followed up with an elbow that was blocked. “Ryo will think that I’m a used-up whore, Robert will pity me, and Takuma will decide that I’m not worthy of even setting _foot_ in the school. Yuri would be absolutely forbidden to team up with me again in future tournaments because I’ve been… _tainted_ .”  
  
Mary made a face as she tried to land a double jab.

“They won’t think any of that stuff! No one is going to pity you, or deem you ‘unworthy,’ or call you a whore! And if they do, send them to me and I’ll be sure to talk some sense into them!”

King found herself smiling as she did a backflip to avoid being hit by another one of Mary’s attacks. The idea of the small cop talking “sense” into the Kyokugen crew was extremely amusing, as there was no doubt in King’s mind that Mary would leave a trail of broken bones and hurt feelings in her wake. However, in the grand scheme of things, no amount of cracked femurs or splintered phalanges would change anyone’s perception of King should her secret be discovered. Sure, they’d all be in a world of hurt, but they would still see her as weak and unfit.

...And they wouldn’t be wrong.

“Gotcha!”

All at once Mary rushed King and struck her hip with a hard knee. Before she could recover Mary grabbed her around her waist and slammed her down on the floor mat. She quickly mounted King and hyper-extended her arm.

“Say ‘uncle’!”  
“No!”

King tried to fight through the pain and break free, but it was hopeless: Mary had the armbar firmly locked. She let out a tortured grunt as the detective pulled her arm further.

“ _Fuck_ ! UNCLE!”  
“Tee-hee. I win!”  
  
Mary promptly released her hold. Triumphant, she leaned over and gave King a quick peck on the forehead before springing to her feet.

King made a face as she clutched her arm; she winced as she flexed it a few times.

“Gross. You’re all sweaty.”  
“You love it.”  
“You wiiiiiiish.”  
“You know, I seem to remember a certain somebody trying to convince me to make out with her not too long ago,” Mary smirked as she wiped her face with a towel. “I wonder who _that_ could have been?”  
  
King became a little flustered as a super vague memory of unsteadily leaning dangerously close to Mary flashed in her head. She didn’t remember much of the occasion very well, but that didn’t keep her from feeling embarrassed by her drunken antics.

“That -that doesn’t count!”  
“I'm just messing with you,” Mary laughed. “Hey, I’m free for another hour -- do you wanna go eat?”  
“I can’t,” King began while taking off her hand wraps. “I have to shower and change before I go in.”  
“What time do you start?”  
“Six.”  
“Oh, you have plenty of time! Just use the shower here. The water pressure’s not the greatest, but, I mean, it works.”  
“I left my clothes at home,” King said. She stuffed the wraps in her gym bag and zipped it up.  
“Fine. I guess I’ll walk you out then.”  
“I know where the exit is.”  
“Okay, but I can’t have you wandering around the precinct like an angsty Ent.”  
“‘An angsty _Ent_ ?’ Your geekiness is showing.”  
“But you know exactly what I’m talking about, which makes you just as much of a geek. Geek.”  
“Whatever.”

King playfully rolled her eyes; she picked up her bag and made a grand, sweeping gesture toward the door. Mary casually sauntered past her, towel in-hand, a huge grin on her face. The two quietly walked through Southtown PD, past officers who were busy with various day-to-day tasks. Some appeared a little intimidated by Mary: many of them gave curt nods or mumbled “Detective” under their breaths as they hurriedly walked by her, avoiding eye contact as they went.

“YOU!” Somebody shouted out of nowhere. “You’re that bitch from L’Amour!”

King’s eyes widened at the mention of the shady locale: She instantly turned to see a man, who was being led through the lobby by a beat cop, glaring daggers at her. He stopped walking, which made the cop behind him awkwardly bump into his back.

“You don’t remember me,” the man grinned. “I remember you, though! Big’s lapdog, weren’t you, you traitorous cunt!”

King was instantly angered. Who the hell was this guy?! She started toward him but Mary put an arm out to stop her.

“Don’t,” she said quietly.  
  
“We all heard about what happened between you and the boys!”  
“Shut up,” the officer grunted as he pushed the prisoner forward.  
“What --” King started, but was instantly cut off.  
“Word travels fast, honey! We all know about how much of a screamer you are!”  
“GET HIM OUT OF HERE,” Mary barked fiercely. She firmly held on to King, who, despite feeling sick, was ready to break the stranger’s face.

“Let’s go!” The cop shoved the man, who was laughing, toward the holding area.  
  
“Big’s not done with you,” the prisoner called as he disappeared down the hall. “Once he gets his hands on you you’ll _really_ scream!”

King pressed her lips together as Mary practically dragged her out of the building and into the hot afternoon air. The sun beat down on the two women as they stopped at the top of the steps.

“What the hell --?! Who does that asshole think he is?!”

Although undeniably shaken by the strange encounter, King’s anger was threatening to overwhelm her. She made a move back toward the large double doors of the police station but Mary stepped in front of her.

“Don’t! He was just trying to get in your head!”  
“Then you should let me get in his! With my foot!”

Mary crossed her toned arms over her chest and gave King a look that made her wish she had just stayed in bed all day.

“Easy there, your highness.”

King scowled as she looked down at the ground. She had no idea who that guy was, but not only did he know her, he knew about what had been done to her. She supposed it wasn’t that much of a surprise: People in the Syndicate liked gossiping just as much as mean grade school girls did. It didn’t make it any less humiliating or degrading, though. Those disgusting men (and maybe a couple of women) had probably heard all kinds of things about her.

Lewd things that made her want to throw up.

“Bb…?”  
  
Mary looked up in to King’s face, her expression screwed up with concern.

“I’m… I’m fine,” King said quietly.  
“She says, while looking like she’s about to puke.”

King stifled a small burp.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she repeated weakly. “I just --”

At that moment, King’s phone started ringing from inside her gym bag. She quirked a brow as she started digging around for it. After a moment she pulled the device out: the small screen displayed a candid photo of Elizabeth glowering at a jigger. What on earth did she want? The bar wasn’t even open yet, which meant she was probably calling in sick. Which meant King was going to be short-staffed for the night. Fantastic.

“Great picture,” Mary commented with a snicker.

“Yeah? What’s up?” King answered flatly.  
“You need to get here,” came Elizabeth’s unusually monotone reply. “Right now.”  
“Why? What’s going on?”  
“I can’t really… I mean... Just get over here.”  
“Okay. I just need to stop at home first and take a --”  
“NO,” Elizabeth suddenly exclaimed. “You need to come here right _now_ !”  
“Can you at least tell me _why_?!”

There was a brief pause as Elizabeth took a deep breath.

“Just get here. Please.”  
“On my way…”

King frowned as the line went dead. She turned to Mary, who was looking at her expectantly.

“I have to run. Some kind of… something.”  
“Is everything okay?”  
“I’m not really sure,” King replied as she plucked her keys from her bag. “She didn’t say much of anything.”  
“Well, go do your thing, bar wench,” Mary patted King on the back. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Don’t worry about that scumbag inside -- he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”  
“Sure.”  
“He _doesn’t_ ,” Mary affirmed as she walked away.

###

 

Although one of the perks of owning a bar was the ability to wear whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, King couldn’t help thinking that mixing drinks while dressed in a ringer tee damp from boob sweat, and cotton-slash-polyester short-shorts was probably going to put most customers off. As she parked her car she hoped that she would get the opportunity to go home and shower before her shift actually started. In the meantime, though, she was going to have to settle for some quick touch-up work. Once the car was off King grabbed the spare deodorant she kept in the glove box at all times, as well as a stick of eyeliner that was partially melted, and quickly reapplied both as needed. She fixed her hair as much as possible and put on some lip balm before exiting the vehicle.

King took a quick look around at her surroundings as she crossed the busy street and approached Illusion. Elizabeth was pacing around outside of the building, a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other. She looked absolutely frazzled.

“I thought you were quitting?” King asked as she approached her employee.  
  
Elizabeth nodded as she took a long drag off the cigarette.  
  
“So...” King looked at Elizabeth, who, for some reason, wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Why did you call me here?”  
“He’s inside,” came a mumbled reply.  
“What?”  
“He just showed up here. I told him we were closed but he just came in and he - he said… He said he’d wait for you.”  
“Who?” King tried to peer through the window on the door, but the reflection off the glass was too strong for her to see inside.  
  
“Boss, listen --” Elizabeth started, but King hurried past her, a sinking feeling in her gut. She entered the deserted bar and quickly surveyed the area: There was a little bit of natural light filtering in from the window, which, coupled with the orange string lights over the counter, gave the place an almost surreal quality. Jim Morrison quietly crooning about people being strange only added to the effect.

And that’s when she saw them.

Sitting at a booth in the very back was a bald man flanked by two overly made-up women. The fact that he was wearing sunglasses indoors, in a dark corner, would have been absurd had he not been, well… him.

King swallowed hard as her gym bag fell from her shaking hand.  
  
“Big…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's up:
> 
> * I don't think it's the norm, but some police stations have their own gyms for the officers to use to stay in shape...  
> * Yeah, I know that 5'6" is average, but thinking of Mary as "small" is just a headcanon thing I've had since, like... 1997 okay.  
> * Armbars hurt, and poor King has a low pain tolerance.  
> * When Mary tells King that she tried to convince her to make out with her, she is directly referring to the events of How Do You Sleep?  
> * Ents are the tree-people things in The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit. Mary is comparing King to an Ent because she's so tall.  
> * A jigger is a tool used in bartending to measure alcohol  
> * The orange string lights over the bar in Illusion is sort of a nod to King apparently liking Halloween. Check out her stages: in AOF2 it's literally a Halloween carnival, but in KOF '95 and '96 there are random jack-o-lanterns in the background.  
> * Jim Morrison is the lead singer of the band The Doors. The song playing in the background is People Are Strange.


	13. King Rat

The music of The Doors floated through Illusion as King stood, frozen in place, while Mr. Big sat with his whores, acting as though he didn’t notice her. She had never been particularly afraid of him -- hell, she had always thought of him as just another coke-addicted asshole with extra money and a superiority complex -- but, there she was, shaking uncontrollably in his presence as he sat in _her_ bar, at _her_ table, seemingly unaware of the havoc he was wreaking on her mind. She clenched her fists and tried to think of the exact _right_ thing to say as she slowly approached the booth. Did she scream, and yell, and hit him with a chair right off the bat? Politely ask why he was there? Simply tell him to get out? She stopped just a few feet from the table and looked down at the trio. Her lips parted as she willed herself to say something -- _anything_! -- but Big spoke first:

“Been awhile, huh, _babe_?”

Normally, being called “babe” would have set King the fuck _off_ , but she was so caught off guard by Big just being there that all she could do was give a small nod. Her pulse raced while the music played.  
  
“Why are you here?” She finally asked, her voice surprisingly level.

Big smirked as he turned to his companions. “Leave us,” he ordered them.  
  
The women looked disappointed but followed Big’s command, with one of them awkwardly scooting up and over him to get out of the booth. The ladies strolled past King, sneering at her as they went. One of them said something to Elizabeth, who was standing right outside the exit.  
  
“I love the new look.”  
  
Big gestured toward King’s workout attire. “It’s very --”  
  
“Ta gueule!” King snapped as she unconsciously tugged at the hem of her shorts. She knew she needed to stay calm, but keeping herself composed in the face of this asshole wasn’t going to be an easy feat by any means.

“That’s no way to talk to a guest. Sit.”  
“I’ll stand.”

Big shrugged, completely unaffected by King’s defiant attitude. There was a brief lull between the two as King tried to keep cool. She squared her shoulders and inhaled, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest.

“Why. are you. here?” she asked a second time.

Big laced his gloved fingers together and rested his chin on his hands. His dark eyes became partially visible as his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose.  
  
“I came to apologize.”  
“Wha- what…?”  
  
King wasn’t sure if she heard Big right; she could have sworn she heard him say he was there to apologize to her. Surely she must have been mistaken.

“I heard one of my boys got a little… carried away,” Big continued. “I sent them to pay you a visit -- to send you my regards, if you will. But, from what I understand, one of them took things a bit too far.”  
“Too far…?” King’s voice was barely above a whisper.  
“You needed to pay for what you did. You needed to be _punished_ . But that's not how we do things. That’s not how _I_ do things.”  
“Then perhaps you should have come after me yourself instead of relying on leg breakers and thugs,” King shot back.  
“Would you have preferred that?”  
“...yes.”  
  
Big sat up straight in his seat, his interest clearly piqued. He pushed his glasses back up, completely obscuring his eyes once more.

“Why?”  
“Because then I would have known what to expect,” King answered tersely.  
“Are you saying I’m predictable?”  
“You wouldn’t have pulled a gun on me. Or…”  
“You know, I didn’t mean you _torture_ ,” Big said. He wore a frown but his tone was infuriatingly casual. “But I didn’t care that much, either.”

“Didn’t mean me _torture_ ?!” King shouted, her anger finally getting the better of her. Warm tears stung the corners of her eyes as she stared, disbelieving, at the man in front of her. “He beat me! He- he _raped_ me! And now you’re here, in my place of business, with your bullshit whores and your bullshit sunglasses, telling me you want to _apologize_ ?! _Fuck you_ !”  
  
“Do you kiss your brother with that mouth, Cécile?”

King was stunned, not only by the sound of her name, but by the mention of Jean.

“Miss Cécile Levasseur,” Big said thoughtfully. “Such a delicate name for someone such as yourself. See, my guys told me everything. I know _every_ detail about your little encounter with them. Every cut, every bruise, every motherfucking thing. I know they stopped you two blocks from that little Mexican joint down on Fourth, and I know you had thirty-six dollars in mostly fives and ones in your wallet, and I know you had three condoms in your bag that day -- and not a single one was used. They. told. me. _everything_.”

King looked away as the tears threatened to spill over. What Big said was absolutely _horrifying_ , but she couldn’t let him see how much he was getting to her. She _wouldn’t_ let him see. She pressed her lips together and squinted down at the floor, unsure of how she could possibly respond to any of that in a dignified manner. She crossed her arms and fixed her gaze on a smudge near the top of her sneaker.

“It’s been so long... Why now?” King asked after a moment, her voice shakier than she would have liked.  
“I got bored.”  
“Wha- what?!”  
“Toying with you seemed like a good way to pass some time.”  
  
Flabbergasted, King took a tiny step away from the table, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth to say something but she was stopped by Big.

“I thought about how you didn’t _just_ give Sakazaki the information he needed to fetch his bitch sister back then. You went to the cops, and you told them everything you could so it would get you off the hook. Do you know what it’s like to lose the things you’ve worked for? Because one of your most trusted subordinates _snitched_ ?”  
“I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t sit by and watch you --”  
“Don’t act like you’re so noble, ‘King.’ You did just as much bad shit as the rest of us, not because you had to, but because you _wanted_ to. I bet if Sakazaki hadn’t blown your top open you’d still be over at L’Amour, hiding under sports bras and athletic tape, following my orders. Tell me I’m wrong.”  
“You’re _wrong_ .”  
  
King’s voice was calm, measured. It directly conflicted with the fact that she was ready to fucking explode.  
  
“Am I, though? To you, it was just a job, was it not? Just like any other -- except it wasn’t. You _enjoyed_ hurting people -- every single one. You still do. That’s why I told the boys to hurt you -- to give you a taste of your own medicine. But, it got a little _too_ rough, and for that I _do_ apologize.”  
“Take your ‘apology’ and get _fucked_ , Big!”  
“Like you did?”

That was it! King deftly snatched a chair that was near her and held it up, ready to strike Big right across his bald head with it.

“Easy now,” he said with a grin. “You wouldn’t want to do something you’ll regret, would you, ‘King’?”  
“JE VAIS PÉTER UN CÂBLE!” King yelled as she held the chair higher.

Big let out a hollow sounding laugh.

“Do you really want to go to jail because you lost your temper again? I know about that… _incident_ here. You’re lucky I had that man paid off, otherwise he surely would have pressed charges against you.”  
  
King’s breath caught in her throat as her grip on the chair slipped a little bit.  
  
“The date rapist?! He -- why?!”  
“I figured you had enough problems without criminal assault charges being thrown into the mix. You can thank me by putting that down.”

King tightened her grip before slowly setting the chair in its rightful place. She took a deep breath as she looked at Big. She felt so incredibly exhausted.  
  
“Why are you _really_ here, Big?”  
“I wanted to see it for myself,” came his answer.  
“See what?”  
“How much he _ruined_ you.”

King opened her mouth to protest but stopped. Big wasn’t exactly wrong -- she _was_ ruined. Maybe not completely, but definitely on some major level.

“What happened to you was a terrible thing,” Big remarked, his voice dripping with rancor. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy hearing all about it. You’re falling apart at the seams, and, while his actions were barbaric, the lasting effects are more than I could have hoped for. Tell me, ‘King’ -- what does Sakazaki think of all this?”

King froze. She felt her face begin to flush a terrible shade of pink.  
  
“Oh, he doesn’t know?! This is rich,” Big laughed as he leaned back and clapped his hands together. “Why haven’t you told him? You two are such great friends now, so what are you afraid of? That he won’t see you as an equal anymore?”

King didn’t say anything. She glowered at Big, who was smiling up at her. It was a wicked expression that left her feeling like she wanted to claw her way out of her own skin.  
  
“How about your brother? Jean, was it? Does he know that his big sister is nothing more than a used-up tramp who can’t even protect herself when it matters most? I bet the poor boy must be crush --”  
  
Without thinking King stepped forward and punched Big directly in his face, knocking his glasses askew. She opened and closed her fist a few times: The force of the hit made her knuckles feel like they were on fire, but damn if it wasn’t a little cathartic.

“Leave my brother out of this!” she spat.

Big swore as he brought a hand up to his nose; his white glove was instantly stained crimson by his blood, which was flowing profusely. He sniffed very loudly while he re-adjusted his glasses.

“Well, well. Nice to see that, even after everything, you haven’t lost that… je ne sais quoi. You know I can still find new ways to hurt you, right?”  
“I doubt that.”  
“Jean is quite the little  --”  
  
Big was interrupted by King’s fist connecting with his face a second time.  
  
“Go anywhere near my brother, and I will _end_ you!”  
  
Big quickly stood up: He produced one of his rattan Escrima sticks and held it under King’s chin; he tilted her head upward so she was forced to look him directly in the face.  
  
“You couldn’t if you tried, little girl.”  
  
Before King could do anything Big punched her in the stomach -- hard. She clutched her midsection as she doubled over, the wind completely knocked out of her.

“Tu fils… de pute…!”  
“You better watch your mouth, Cécile. You still have a lot to lose.”  
“God... you’re such... an asshole!”

King gasped as she brought herself upright. She didn’t know why the hell she thought it was a good idea, but she kicked Big in his knee as hard as she could, hoping that, maybe, she would dislocate or even fracture something. He started to fall, which gave her the opportunity to strike him with a hard knee, instantly busting his mouth. The cheap shot earned King a fierce slap to the face that sent her flying backward. She caught herself on a nearby table and placed a hand on her throbbing cheek.

“That was ballsy,” Big remarked. He sucked air through his bloody teeth while he clutched his leg. “Ballsy, but stupid!”  
“I don’t care…!”

Big drew himself up to his full height. He looked at King, his eyes no doubt full of hatred under his glasses as blood continued to flow from his nose and mouth.

“I should tear everyone you love limb from fucking limb,” he growled. “But you’re not worth my time. Knowing that you’ll never escape the feeling of my guy thrusting into you again and again is satisfying enough.”  
  
King didn’t say anything. She curled her fingers around the edge of the table and stared up at Big, indignant. She couldn’t let him see how much that last comment _hurt_ . She contemplated attacking again, but quickly decided against it. Instead, she swallowed hard while Big went on.  
  
“I’m not going to waste anymore time with you, bartender. Go home and cry into your pillow like the _child_ you really are. Or better yet, go cry to Sakazaki. Tell him about what happened here today so I can break him when he inevitably comes to defend your honour.”

With that, Big turned on his heel.  
  
“You should put some ice on that,” he called as he limped toward the exit. “You wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours to swell too much.”  
“ _FUCK OFF!_ ”  
  
King was tempted to run after Big, to hit him with anything she could find -- her fists, or a chair, or the fire extinguisher -- until there was nothing left, however, the feeling of bile rising in the back of her throat kept her firmly in place until he was gone. It was then that she ran to the office, into the bathroom, and violently threw up. When she was done she sank back on her haunches and wiped her teary eyes with the bottoms of her palms. She let out a choked sigh as she stared blankly at the toilet.

“Boss.”  
  
King jumped. She turned to see Elizabeth standing with one hand on the doorway, her normally aloof features contorted in something that looked like it might have been worry. King didn’t really know what to say: Her and Elizabeth didn’t quite get along; to see her -- of all people -- standing there was surprising. When had she even come inside? And how long had she been…?

“How… how much of that did you hear?” King tried to sound as casual as she could given the circumstances.  
“Enough,” came a stoic reply. “I now know that your name is Cécile.”  
  
Shit.  
  
“Is that all?”

Elizabeth loudly exhaled.  
  
“...I heard you say you were raped.”

King shut her eyes as she backed up against the wall. She placed a cool hand on her clammy forehead, absolutely defeated. Yet _another_ person had discovered the secret she was trying so goddamn hard to keep.  
  
“That’s why you were out for a month,” Elizabeth stated flatly. “And why you’ve been acting so odd. And why you freaked out so badly when that guy tried to drug that girl.”  
“Yeah...”  
  
Silence descended on the two women. It was loaded and uncomfortable.  
  
“Were you ever going to tell us?”  
“...No.”  
  
More silence.  
  
“I mean, I get it,” Elizabeth said with a shrug. She moved into the small space and lowered herself onto the floor across from King. Her short skirt rode up, leaving very little to the imagination, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. She stared at King, who suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

“...What?”  
  
“There was this guy back in high school,” Elizabeth began. “We went on a couple of dates. Went to a party together and he got a little... handsy in an upstairs bedroom, so I maced him. I didn’t tell anyone at first -- not even Sally. He didn’t even go all the way, but it messed me up for a minute. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Played the blame game because it was definitely _my_ fault for going with him. ...Sound familiar?”

King slowly nodded. She felt horrible for Elizabeth for having had such an awful experience. And as a kid, no less.  
  
“I- I”m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t --”  
“You’ve tried to numb the pain any way you can, haven’t you?” Elizabeth cut her off. “Because I have some news for you. You can knock back as many shots as you want, or do as many drugs as you want, or beat up as many customers as you want -- _nothing is going to work_ .”  
“Is this supposed to be some kind of pep talk?” King inquired, somewhat perplexed. “Because I don’t --”  
“ _Need_ one, right? I know you don’t need a pep talk. But you _do_ need a reality check.”  
“I think I just got one, thanks.”  
“Just listen. You don’t have to tell anyone anything, but if you don’t get yourself together it’s gonna keep eating away at you.”  
“I- I _am_ getting myself together...! I’ve made... a lot of progress...!”  
“You seeing a shrink?”  
“...No.”

Elizabeth frowned.

“It helps,” she said, her icy eyes locked directly on King’s face. “You should swallow your pride and try it.”  
“It’s not about --”  
“Sure it is,” Elizabeth interrupted. “But, you know what? Pride only hurts. It never helps.”  
  
King leaned her head back against the wall. Elizabeth had a really fucking good point. She let out a deep sigh and covered her eyes with one hand.

“But... It’s not like they can fix me,” she groaned.  
“It’s not about being ‘fixed’ you dumbass!”  
“Hey!”  
“What? You’re being stupid!”  
“We’ll see how stupid I’m being when I fire you for insubordination!” King retorted as she uncovered her eyes.  
  
Elizabeth shrugged, totally unconcerned with King’s sudden outburst. She silently stood up, adjusted her underwear, and smoothed her skirt.  
  
“I’m sorry,” King said quietly. “I shouldn’t have --”  
“I don’t expect us to be great friends now because I told you all that. Yeah, we both have our own Me Too stories, but you’re still a pain in the ass.”  
“Great. And I still have to wonder how your sister turned out to be such a delight while you’re… you, but I still have manners.”  
“Well go have manners in a therapist’s office. Sally and I can’t keep running the place every time you have some sort of mental breakdown.”  
“Touché,” King mumbled dryly. She narrowed her eyes as she brought a hand to her face, which was still hurting from being struck so hard.  
  
“I’ll get some ice,” Elizabeth told her as she left the small room.  
“Uhhh, thanks…?”  
  
King brought her knees up to her chest and put her head down, glad that she was finally alone. Between the criminal at the police station, Mr. Big’s visit, and her talk with Elizabeth, she was completely, utterly drained mentally. And she _still_ had a full shift to work that night. She thought about getting up and raiding the wine stocks for a bottle of the strongest red she could find, but she knew that it really wasn’t going to help anything. With a sigh she ran her hands through her hair and looked up at the ceiling.  
  
What a _horrible_ fucking day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was certainly something, wasn't it? So let's go over it:
> 
> * Ta gueule = Shut up!  
> * "I never meant you torture but I didn't care that much" is a lyric from the song Fizgig by the band Chevelle. Winky face for those of you in the know.  
> * Idk if you guys remember Much Like Suffocating all that well, but Yuri and Mai were waiting for King at a Mexican restaurant.  
> * Yeah, the condom thing is pretty horrifying, huh? Don't worry - she's not pregnant. (There was a throwaway line in a previous chapter about this...)  
> * Head canon time! Yuri's abduction was the catalyst for King leaving the Syndicate, though she was having thoughts of doing so even before that happened. When she left she went to the cops and told them, well, literally everything about Big's illegal activities. As a result she wasn't in nearly as much trouble as she could have been in for doing a crime lord's bidding. This is also how she met Mary, who was just starting out on the force.  
> * I know KOF: Destiny isn't quite canon, but in episode 24, King says, "I do my job and I get paid." She's also shown leaving a dude in a pool of his own blood in an alley. This also ties in to Capcom vs SNK 2's character conversations (Japanese version only, *sob*) where it's revealed that King has a bit of a sadistic streak.  
> * Okay, I'mma tell you something right now: If a gal needs to masquerade as a guy, and has hella boobs, like King does? Sports bras and athletic tape. Boom.  
> * JE VAIS PÉTER UN CÂBLE! is literally "I'm going to strip a cable" and is used in French to convey EXTREME anger. King is basically saying she is going to LOSE HER SHIT.  
> * Tu fils de pute = you son of a bitch  
> * Elizabeth's line about pride is a direct nod to Marcellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction: "Fuck Pride. Pride only hurts. It never helps."
> 
> Alright, folks. Let me know what's going through your heads, good or bad. See you next time, I hope!


	14. The World At Large

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this was not an easy chapter to write, but here we are.
> 
> A quick note on King's attire, since I very specifically mention an article of clothing. Tie, vest, slacks, boots.
> 
> Okay, onward~

The first rainy afternoon Southtown had seen in almost a year found King sitting at the counter inside of Illusion, resting her head on the cool surface as she ran her finger around the rim of an empty glass. The night before had been, predictably, mostly sleepless, with her short bursts of REM featuring unusually odd nightmares that touched on high school, her ordeal, and her time working under Mr. Big. She knew she would never escape any of the bad shit she did under his orders, but dreaming about it all so long after the fact was, clearly, an unfortunate side-effect of their meeting. However, despite her horrible night, King felt an overwhelming sense of relief: Big was a lot of things -- including a man of his word. If he said he was done with her, he meant it.  
  
“Boss?”  
“Hm?”  
  
King didn’t move. She listlessly glanced up at Sally, who was peering down at her with a frown.  
  
“Did you sleep okay last night?”  
“No.”  
“Do you want to just go home early? I don’t think business is going to pick up because of the weather so it’s not like you’ll have to worry about missing out on too many tips…”  
“No, I’ll stay.” King slowly raised her head. “It’s not fair for me to keep leaving you and your sister high and dry. Besides, I need to pay my phone bill.”  
“Well, do you want me to make you something? An Irish Coffee, or…?”  
  
King covered her mouth as she let out a huge yawn. She shook her head, turning down the offer.  
  
“What about a Calabasas Cooler?” Sally inquired.  
“Naaahhhhh,” King drew the word out while she stretched her arms over her head. There was a loud pop from one of her shoulders.  
“Why don’t you go lay down in the back for a little bit? I’ll come get you if I need you.”

There was a brief lull as King took Sally’s suggestion into consideration. Happy Hour was a good forty minutes off… laying down until then wouldn’t hurt.

“Okay, yeah... Sure...”  
  
King hopped off of the stool. She slowly shuffled toward the office and wondered if she should just bite the bullet and go to the doctor for some sleeping pills. She had always heard interesting things about Ambien...  
  
Once in the quiet room, King lowered herself onto the loveseat against the far wall: She put her feet up and stared up at the ceiling, her eyelids heavy. She made a low noise as she brought a strangely cold hand up to her cheek, which was still sore from being slapped so hard. Somehow, the hit hadn’t left much of a mark, but her face still hurt a lot. It wasn’t as bad as her stomach though, which was marred by a nasty purple blemish that screamed for attention any time she moved a certain way.

The calm in the small space was suddenly broken by the sound of King’s phone ringing. With a groan she dug her device out of her pocket: A photo of none other than Ryo Sakazaki was displayed on the small screen. The two hadn’t communicated at all since the blow up at her apartment, when he declared that he would get to the bottom of her “weird” behaviour. With that in mind, she sent the call directly to voicemail. After a minute the familiar chime went off, letting her know he left a message.

She’d listen to it later. 

Maybe.

  
  
###

 

A soft knock on the door startled King awake. She brought herself upright: her clothes were wrinkled and a small bit of drool was streaked down the side of her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand before looking at the clock. Was it really after five?  
  
“Boss?” Sally called as she stuck her head into the room. “You have a visitor out front.”  
“Who izzit?” King responded groggily.  
“Your favourite.”  
  
Sally flashed a mischievous grin.  
  
Fuck!  
  
King jumped to her feet, fully awake. She hurried past Sally, out into the unusually desolate bar, and immediately spotted Ryo at the counter. He was nursing a pineapple Hefeweizen that was, from what King understood, the “perfect summer beer.” She couldn’t let herself get distracted by his choice of alcohol, though. If he was there, that meant she was either going to get into a really heavy conversation, or she was going to get into a fight; there was no inbetween. She braced herself as she walked up to him.

“Hey.”  
“Hey,” Ryo turned on his stool so he could see King better. “Did you get my message?”  
“I didn’t listen to it.”  
  
The two fell into a strained silence as King walked behind the counter. She took a quick look around the area before crossing her arms over her chest. She held her breath; she was undeniably upset with Ryo: He had come into her apartment and acted like an asshole, and now he was in her establishment -- probably about to act like an asshole.  
  
“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” Ryo began, “but I want you to know that I’m sorry about how I acted back at your place the other day. It wasn’t cool.”  
  
King nodded curtly. Part of her was touched that he came by to apologize, but she was still apprehensive about where the conversation would go from there. It was best to keep it short and not think about it.  
  
“Apology accepted. Is that all? I have to get to work.”  
“Uh, there’s barely anyone here.”  
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have to do things like take inventory or place orders or --”  
  
Just then Sally strolled right up to King, a huge smile on her face.  
  
“I can do all that stuff, Boss! Why don’t you and Ryo... ‘catch up?’”  
  
King stared at Sally in disbelief. She adored her -- she really did -- but in that moment she was very tempted to drop kick her. Before King could protest, Sally gave her a quick pat on the back before walking off, leaving her on her own.

“Okay then,” King muttered. She turned to look at Ryo, who was staring at her intently. She cursed inwardly as she felt heat creeping up her neck, into her cheeks. It was those goddamn hazel eyes.  
  
“...What?”  
  
Ryo shrugged. He squinted at King before taking a quick swig of beer.  
  
“What happened to your face?”  
“Unruly customer. You know the drill,” King answered dismissively.  
“Ah. Let’s cut the shit, alright?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You were going to tell me something back at your apartment, but Jean bailed you out. I want to know what it was.”  
“The suspense is killing you, huh?” King asked dryly. She rested her hands on the counter and tried to keep her posture as relaxed as possible. She couldn’t let Ryo see how _bothersome_ the subject really was.

“Well… yeah.”  
“I don’t even remember what it was,” King lied. “So, if _I_ don’t think it’s important enough to remember, then why should you worry about it?”  
“Hrmmm…”  
“You know I’m right. So let’s just drop it and move on with our lives.”  
“Come on, King! You _know_ I can’t do that!”  
  
King wanted to reach across the counter and smack Ryo across his head.  
  
“And why is that, exactly?”  
“Because it’s... Look. You fought off an attack from Big and didn’t tell anyone about it. Then you caught mono, and -- I get it, you were sick -- but ever since you’ve been back you’ve been acting outright bizarre. Not weird -- _bizarre_ . Something isn’t adding up.”  
“You’re _really_ overthinking this, Sakazaki.”  
  
King pressed her lips together: She really didn’t want to have this talk.  
  
“You do that thing with your mouth when you’re agitated,” Ryo observed.  
  
King blushed furiously while bringing a hand up to her lips. Ryo noticed her _mouth_ ? ...What else did he notice about her? She shook her head: She couldn’t allow herself to even follow _that_ train of thought. If she did she would start thinking about… _stuff_ . And that would lead to thinking about… more stuff. Stuff she _didn’t_ want to think about. Ever.  
  
“Are you listening?”  
  
Ryo was looking at King with a quizzical expression. She cleared her throat and loosened her necktie a little bit before tugging at her collar.  
  
“Do you want another drink?” She asked quickly. “I need a drink.”  
“See?! _This_ is what I’m talking about!”  
  
Ryo glanced around the bar before leaning toward King. He gestured for her to meet him halfway, which made her flush _again_ . Those stupid fucking eyes were locked right on her, and he was _really_ close why was he getting so close and --  
  
“You haven’t been doing pot again, have you?”  
  
King let out a shrill, unnatural sounding laugh. She hastily snatched a small glass and a bottle of the strongest coconut rum in the vicinity from the shelf behind her so she could pour herself a shot.  
  
“I would never do that at work! Geez!”  
“But getting shit-faced is another story, right?”  
“It’s on-the-job training.”

King downed her rum. She took one look at Ryo and began to pour herself another drink but stopped: It barely tasted of alcohol: if she wasn’t careful, she could quickly end up getting drunk off of it. And Drunk King had a habit of being a little _too_ honest, and of spilling her guts at the slightest nudge. She reluctantly set the alcohol and shot glass aside.  
  
“What happened to you?” Ryo suddenly asked, point-blank.  
“What?”  
“You heard me.”  
  
King glanced down at the floor. Ryo was her friend -- on most days, anyway. Would he _really_ think differently of her if she told him _everything_ that went down? It was probably only a matter of time before he found out from someone else, anyway, be it from Yuri getting stoned and accidentally saying something, or from a student sharing the latest gossip from the street. She pressed her lips together again as she glanced over at him.  
  
“Seriously, King! No more games!”  
“Who’s playing games?!” King snapped. She could feel herself becoming more and more irked; she took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Suddenly, she remembered something Big told her the previous day:  
  
_“...go cry to Sakazaki. Tell him about what happened here today so I can break him when he inevitably comes to defend your honour.”_  
  
King realized with horror that Big was _counting_ on her to tell Ryo about the incident. Because if she came clean, then Ryo would walk right up to his figurative doorstep and possibly get his ass handed to him… or worse.  
  
“ _Putain de merde_ !” She blurted out, angry that Big had designed the perfect way to fuck with her head.  
  
“What is it?!” Ryo jumped, nearly knocking his beer over.  
“I… forgot to change Marron’s litter,” King replied lamely.  
  
Ryo sat straight up in his stool and took a deep breath. He set his beer bottle aside and rubbed his stubble, his features unreadable. King couldn’t help noticing that he was beginning to turn an interesting shade of red.  
  
“I think I know what this is about,” he declared.  
“Congratulations.”  
“No, seriously!”  
“Okay, what?”  
“You slept with someone! And you don’t want to tell me! Right?!”  
  
King instantly recoiled as if she had been burned by the counter.  
  
“ _What_ ?!”  
“At the school, you said… and, I mean,  you’re… uhhh… very… It wouldn’t be hard for you to -- and you work here so you’re always meeting people and --”  
  
King cut him off with a loud groan: She placed her hands on her temples and sank down to her knees behind the bar. Ryo wasn’t exactly wrong… technically he was actually on the right track. All he had to do was connect that final dot, and then he, too, would know that she was --

“What… are you _doing_ down there?”

King looked up: Ryo was halfway out of his seat, staring down at her with a curious expression. She felt like she was on the verge of having a stroke. She quickly began to weigh her options: If she said she slept with somebody and left it at that, then the conversation would be over once and for all. Ryo would probably still think she was a whore, which would make things very awkward between them, but at least he would believe that her increased body count was a product of something like drunken hedonism as opposed to violent assault. But if she told him that he was wrong then she would have to continue dodging questions and making shit up.  
  
Or, she could do something really outrageous, Big’s mind games be damned, and tell him the truth.  
  
“I _didn’t_ … ! Je… I, I mean… Merde…!”  
  
King found herself sputtering an inarticulate string of word fragments as she tried to regain her composure. She slowly stood up and reached for the rum: She definitely needed another shot.  
  
“You didn’t…?”  
“Didn’t what?”  
“You just said you didn’t.”  
  
King poured the tiny drink and downed it almost instantaneously. Had she really just stupidly told Ryo that she _hadn’t_ slept with anyone?! She turned away and laced her fingers together as she placed them on the back of her neck. She needed to find a way to correct her massive faux pas.

“Listen, I, uh…”  
  
She took a deep breath: her chest felt tight, like she was on the verge of having an anxiety attack,  and she could feel the godforsaken stinging in her eyes that she had become all too familiar with. Her shoulders sagged as she lowered her arms and slowly turned around.  
  
This was going to _suck_ .

 

###

 

“I didn’t do it,” King said around a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. “I just couldn’t tell him. I thought about it, but...”  
  
She dipped her spoon straight into the ice cream carton and started working to dig a chunk of dough out of its slow-churned vanilla prison.  
  
“Aww, King-san,” Yuri’s voice issued from the receiver, loud but full of compassion. “You don’t have to tell anyone about this if you don’t want to. I mean, yeah, you almost let it slip during that argument, but it doesn’t mean you _have_ to elaborate.”  
“I know. But… I don’t know. I _don’t_ want him to know, but it would be nice to not have to lie anymore. I could just accept the fact that he would see me as… whatever, and be done with it.”  
“He really won’t see you as ‘whatever.’”  
“You don’t know that.”  
“Okay, fine. So what’d you end up telling him?”  
  
King placed the phone on the counter and put the call on speaker so she could put more effort into her quest for that one bit of dough.  
  
“Are you sure you want to know?” She smirked as she finally freed the piece. She scooped it up immediately.  
“King-san?! What did you tell him?!”  
“It’s going to be really weird between us now. ‘Us’ being him and I, I mean.”  
“Why though?”  
“I… told him that I…” King felt herself blushing as she recalled exactly what she said to Ryo earlier. “I told him that I had a dirty dream about him.”  
  
Yuri burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.  
  
“You told him _what_ ?!” More giggling. “Why would you tell him _that_ ?”  
“I had to say _something_ to get him off my back, and I figured that _that_ would be the best way for him to just fucking drop it already!”  
“Oh, this is great,” Yuri guffawed. “I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation!”  
“It wasn’t very interesting.”  
“Well what did he say?!”  
  
King made a face as she swallowed a spoonful of ice cream that was woefully lacking in both the chocolate chip and cookie dough departments.  
  
“He thanked me for my honesty --”  
“HA!”  
“-- chugged his beer, and practically ran out.”  
“Did he at least tip you?!”  
“Yeah, five bucks.”  
“You know he’s going to tell Robert, don’t you?”  
“Yep.”  
  
King sighed. She leaned back against the kitchen counter as she continued to attack her frozen treat.  
  
“And then I’m sure your dad will find out, and he’ll start in on that weird ‘heir’ shit he’s been on about ever since I started sparring with you guys.”  
“God, that’s creepy,” Yuri commented.  
“What? Your dad not so subtly insinuating that he wants your brother and I to fuck?”  
“Yeeeaaah… that’s...”  
“It’s _gross_ ,” King fumed, suddenly very mad. She stabbed at the ice cream, which was beginning to soften as it approached room temperature, and pressed her lips together so tightly that it was almost painful.

“Hey,” Yuri spoke up after a moment. “Be honest with me, King-san.”  
“Hm?”  
“What do you _really_ think of my brother?”  
“Oh, god,” King responded impatiently. “ _This_ conversation? Again?!”  
“Yep. Honest answers only, though.”  
“I’m really not in the mood for  --”  
“ _Honest_!” Yuri firmly reiterated.

The two women fell quiet, with Yuri eagerly awaiting King’s reply. King twirled her spoon between her fingers.  
  
“Your brother is a good looking cat,” she said candidly. “But that’s _it_ !”  
“Are you _sure_ ?” Yuri teased.  
“Geez, Yuri! I can admit that somebody’s attractive _without_ being in love, or lust!” There was a pause as King ate a giant glob of ice cream. “I’m hanging up now,” she grumbled.  
“King-san! Are you mad?”  
“I -- Yeah. A little. It’s nothing.”  
“Was it something I said?! Because I didn’t mean to --”  
“It’s not you,” King muttered. “I’m really hanging up now.”  
“Alright… Bye, I guess.”

King took a deep breath as she ended the call. She finished the ice cream and left the kitchen, restless. It wasn’t that _Yuri_ had made her angry -- it was the subject of Ryo Sakazaki and _fucking_ that pissed her off. He was her friend, damn it! Nothing more! _Yes_ , he had nice eyes, and, _yes_ , she had -- _drunkenly_ \-- had some very... explicit... thoughts, but, in the end, she wasn’t catching feelings: She was catching discomposure for being an idiot.  
  
Even worse, though, was how… _nauseating_ all of it was. She hadn’t really given those sort of things much thought since _it_ happened, but the fact of the matter was that King never wanted to think of fucking -- or being fucked -- ever again. She knew it was a very unhealthy attitude to have, but she couldn’t help it. She had the feeling that she would have to be drunk to the point of near alcohol poisoning before she would even _entertain_ the thought of getting that… “friendly” with anyone, male or female.

She took a deep breath and held it as she walked over to the sofa, where the cat was curled up in a compact ball. She scooped him up in her arms and started rubbing under his chin as she paced around the apartment, his purring starting to help ease her temper a little.  
  
“Oh, Marron,” King exhaled. “What the hell am I doing...?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the notes again:
> 
> * An Irish Coffee is a cocktail made of hot coffee, Irish whiskey, and sugar  
> * A Calabasas Cooler (named after the city of Calabasas in California) is vodka mixed with an energy drink.  
> * Happy Hour is four PM to seven PM.  
> * Ambien is a very interesting drug that has all kinds of weird side-effects: auditory hallucinations, regular hallucinations, sleepwalking, or, in my case, nothing at all. Fun!  
> * Ryo's drink is a beer called I Love Lamp. That name is, indeed, a reference to the movie Anchorman if you haven't seen it.  
> * Remember, Ryo is still working off of the wrong information, the bastard.  
> * Putain de merde = fucking shit, or holy fuck. That sort of thing. Take your pick.  
> * The normal rule of thumb is to tip a bartender one dollar per beer. Ryo leaving so much behind should be pretty telling.  
> * Takuma's talk about King giving him an heir is fucking creepy, okay.  
> * Poor King is in a really weird place right now.
> 
> As always, feel free to tell me what your thoughts and feels are, or ask questions, or whatever. Cheers you guys!


	15. Talking Shit About a Pretty Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it you guys. Final chapter. As always, some more notes at the end. Onward~

“Stay awake, _Cécile_ . Stay awake and talk to me some more. Tell me how much you want me to --”   
  
The sound of a doorbell jarred King awake, bringing her back to the safety of her bedroom. She placed her hand on her throat and looked around: it was still relatively dark, but she could see a tiny sliver of pale light breaking through a small space between the blackout curtains. Before she could check the time the doorbell sounded again, but, this time it was followed by a soft knock. She quickly jumped out of bed and ran out to the living room; when she reached the front door she placed her palms against it and looked through the peephole: A woman she didn’t recognize was standing on the threshold, her face uneasy. Curious, King released the locks and slowly pulled the door open.   
  
“Y-yes?” King pushed a lock of hair away from her eyes; her voice was somewhat shaky.   
“I’m your neighbor --” the woman pointed toward a door not too far away -- “from right over there. I heard a scream. Is everything okay in there?”

King stared, dumbfounded. A scream? She _screamed_ ?   
  
“Oh, I… ummm… yeah,” King cleared her throat. She tried to sound as natural as possible. “Sorry, I, ummm… night terrors.”   
  
Her neighbor looked skeptical.   
  
“I’ll try to keep it down,” King told her. “I’m sorry I woke you.”   
“No, it’s fine. As long as you’re okay…?”   
  
King pressed her lips together and nodded quickly. She didn’t know what else to say, so she apologized once more before bidding the woman farewell and shutting the door. She locked up and leaned her back against it. She slowly sank to the floor; within seconds Marron slinked up and started headbutting her calf.   
  
“Come here...”   
  
King listlessly snapped her fingers; the cat sauntered up to rub against her outstretched hand. She picked him up and hugged him tightly before rising to her feet. She still didn’t know what time it was, but it didn’t matter: she was up -- for at least a little while, anyway. She paced around the dark apartment with the cat in her arms, trying to put the nightmare out of her head. Unfortunately, she could still hear his voice, loud and high and clear:   
  
_“I’ve seen you fight, Cécile -- during your little tournaments, and at your little bar. You get off on the violence, don’t you?! On being in control?!”_   
  
King sighed. Clearly she wasn’t in control of shit. She put Marron down and turned on a light; once her eyes adjusted to the change in the environment she limply walked over to the sofa. Instead of sitting she stood over the end table and stared down at the business card resting next to the cordless receiver. She finally picked it up and turned it over; there was a short message scrawled on the back of it that simply read:   
  
“DO IT!”  
  


###

  
King had a massive stress headache, and it was the stupidest thing ever because, when she really thought about it, there was no reason for her to feel so tense in the first place. Yet there she was, sitting in a mostly dead waiting room, wishing she had some Motrin. Or some vodka.  
  
She placed cool fingers on her temples as she took in every detail of the small, windowless area: There were paintings of things like flowers and landscapes on the walls, which were a weird beige colour, and the smell of a Hawaiian Breeze plug-in hung heavy in the air. There was a plant in every corner and, for some inexplicable reason, 80’s synth pop was playing quietly over the speakers. She sunk down in her chair -- an uncomfortable plastic abomination with a lightly padded cushion -- and did her best to avoid looking at the receptionists, who sat behind a glass partition that was decorated with summer-themed gel clings.   
  
Just then, the text chime on King’s phone sounded. She dug the gadget out of her pocket and read the message, which was from Mary:   
  
“I’m glad you decided to do this.”   
  
King unlocked the phone. She thought carefully about how she would respond; she didn’t want to come across as _too_ acerbic.   
  
“What choice did I have?” She typed the words quickly and watched the little animated ellipses pop up on her screen.   
“Oh, stop,” came Mary’s reply. “You’ll be fine.”   
“Sure.”   
“Don’t be like that. She’ll help you.”   
  
King carefully went through the emojis until she found the one that looked doubtful. She didn’t really know if it would convey her meaning as clearly as she wanted it to, but she sent it anyway. Within seconds Mary retorted with, “Stop making that face.”   
  
Before King could type her rebuttal a door on the far side of the room opened with a loud creak: an older woman peered out into the waiting room. King put her phone back in her pocket and sat straight up in the seat.

“Cécile?” The woman looked at King and smiled. “Cécile Levasseur? Did I say that right?”  
“Leh-vah-surr,” King frowned as she stood up. She always felt weird correcting people on the pronunciation of her name -- another reason why her alias was so convenient: Monosyllabic; extremely hard to fuck up.   
“Oh, okay. Sorry about that. I’m Doctor Shelley. Come this way.”   
  
King suddenly had the wildest urge to run the hell out of there and never look back. However, if she did that she would probably be hit with the sixty-five dollar cancellation fee. That money could be used toward other things -- like the four dozen bottles of wine she was no doubt going to consume after the appointment was over. She hesitated for a moment before allowing the doctor to lead her into a room that held a desk, two plush chairs, and a leather couch: She sat in one of the chairs and crossed her arms as well as her legs. The doctor grabbed a legal pad and a pen before sitting across from King.   
  
“Okay, Cécile… What brings you here today?”   
“I…”

King quickly looked away from the therapist; she fixed her gaze on an orchid that sat on a windowsill behind the desk. She didn’t know why, but, for some reason, she found herself unable to speak. The idea of running out of there was starting to look really damn good again, regardless of the out-of-pocket expenses involved, however, she knew that this would be good for her -- in theory, anyway. She pressed her lips together and, after a moment, finally looked at the doctor, who was watching her with concerned curiosity.   
  
The silence in the room was unbearable.

 

###

 

It was several days later when King sat on a concrete divider between the boardwalk and the beach with Jean by her side. She moved her feet back and forth as her legs dangled over the edge, the tips of her sneakers several inches above the sand. She stared at the crashing waves in the distance and let the sound drown out everything around her. It wasn’t until she felt a light punch on her arm that she tore her eyes away from the water.

“Céc? Did you hear _any_ thing I just said?”  
“Sorry,” King apologized while she rubbed her arm. “I wasn’t listening.”   
“Yeah, obviously. Why did we come here, anyway? We don’t have swimsuits and it’s about to get dark.”   
“I don’t know,” King responded with a shrug. “I just felt like it. What were you saying?”  
“I asked what you were going to be for Halloween.”   
“Isn’t it a little early for that? It’s still a couple of months away…!”   
“Says the person who starts celebrating in September.”   
  
King couldn’t argue there: The holiday in question was her absolute favourite. Hell, the entire period between September first and November first was like a goddamn field day for her. Scary movies, spooky decorations, and darker skies (but not necessarily cooler temperatures) brought out an almost childlike enthusiasm in King that many believed clashed with her subdued nature. “Spooky Season” hadn’t even crossed her mind, not only because it was still summer, but, also, because her thoughts were, of course, dominated by much more pressing matters. Nevertheless, Jean’s question made her wonder if she would even be able to have any fun at all, or if Halloween was going to be yet another item to add to her already long list of things she used to enjoy but just couldn’t.   
  
“Céc!” Jean snapped his fingers in front of his sister’s face. “Wake up!”   
“Oh, sorry.” King furrowed her brow. “Maybe I’ll dress up as a functioning adult this year. ...If I even make it to Halloween, that is.”  
“What does that…? Céc!” Jean exclaimed angrily. “We talked about that! You _swore_ you wouldn’t --”  
“That still stands,” King cut him off. “It was just a bad joke. Ignore me.”   
  
King pushed her hair out of her face as she looked around: The sun had gone down only moments before, but it was still light out. There were many people loitering around on the beach, wading in the water looking for seashells, or jogging with their dogs, or packing up their things after a long day of basking. It was all very chaotic, really, but also oddly peaceful.  
  
“I think you should be a zombie,” Jean spoke up.   
“A zombie?”   
“Yeah. That or... maybe a raccoon? I think I’m gonna start calling you Rocket.”   
“As in Rocket Raccoon?” King asked, confused. “Why?”

“Have you _seen_ the circles under your eyes? When’s the last time you actually slept, Céc?”   
“Define ‘slept.’”   
“Céc.” 

Jean made a face at King; she swore he looked just like their mom.  
  
“It’s been pretty rough lately,” King finally admitted as she looked away.   
“I thought you were doing better now that you’ve started seeing the shrink.”   
“It was only one visit, kiddo, and it’s not like it’s going to fix things right away,” King said. “If at all, even. It’s just…  Every time I take a step forward I’m suddenly six steps back. The therapist is my one step forward. These nightmares are my six steps back. ...Isn’t that stupid?”

“It’s not stupid, Céc.”

There was a subtle change in Jean’s tone that King picked up on immediately. She glanced over at him; his hands were clenched and he was glowering at something in the distance.

“What’s the matter?” King asked carefully.  
“...I _hate_ that guy,” Jean grumbled. “I _hate_ what he did to you.”   
“I hate him, too.”  
  
The siblings fell quiet as they watched the waves move back and forth along the shore while the sky gradually darkened. King fixed her eyes on a sailboat that was visible near the horizon before letting out a deep sigh. She put a reassuring arm around Jean and pulled him close.   
  
“We should talk about something else,” she affirmed with a light shake. “Something happy.”   
“You don’t have to pretend in front of me anymore, Céc,” Jean replied. “If you’re not happy you should say it.”   
“Maybe so, but it’s _my_ problem -- not yours. I’m not going to bring you down with me. That wouldn’t be fair.”   
“ _Life_ isn’t fair, Rocket.”   
“Did you just…?”   
“What?” Jean flashed his sister a cheeky grin. “You thought I was joking?”   
  
King removed her arm from around Jean and blithely shoved him away from her.   
  
“Ass. So, if I’m Rocket, then who are you?” She asked seriously. “All the Guardians are --”   
“Thor,” Jean answered as if it was the most obvious thing on the planet.   
“Ah. Lord of Thunder.”   
“ _God_ of Thunder.”   
“Whatever, Sparkles.” King paused. “Is that who you’re going to be for Halloween?”   
“I don’t know. I was thinking about asking Aunt Maddy for one of those t-rex suits.”   
“You mean the ones in all those memes?”   
  
Jean nodded enthusiastically.   
  
“Don’t bother asking her,” King said quickly. “‘I’ll get it for you.”   
“Céc! You don’t have to --”   
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Consider it my way of saying ‘sorry for being such a drag.’”   
“You’re not a drag, Céc.”   
  
King gave Jean a pointed look.   
  
“Okay, fine, but It’s not like you don’t have a good reason,” Jean told her.   
“Oh, so you _admit_ that I’m a drag, then?!”   
“I never said --!”   
“It’s fine. I’m just messing with you.”   
  
King offered her brother a tiny smile to show that she wasn’t upset with him for acknowledging that she wasn’t the most fun person to be around.   
  
“Can we go eat yet?” Jean changed the subject. “I’m starving.”   
“In a minute.”   
  
King absently turned her attention toward the sea again; she lolled her head back and closed her eyes. She realized with some degree of shock that she actually felt… somewhat normal, and it was honestly a little mind blowing for her. Yes, she still had a lot of things to work out, but, for the first time in weeks, she actually felt like she was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there you have it. It’s over. A couple of quick things here before I get all rambly:
> 
> * Did you catch the Frankenstein reference?  
> * On the name Levasseur: the doctor (and everyone else, really) tend to emphasize the ASS, saying “Le-VASS-er” instead of “Leh-vah-sur.”  
> * When Jean gets mad at King he's referring to the conversation they had in Pinky Swear.  
> * One step forward and six steps back is a lyrical callback to a song by LCD Soundsystem called… drumroll please… how do you sleep?  
> * If you honestly think King and Jean haven’t watched superhero movies together you are out of your goddamn mind.  
> * When King uses “Lord of Thunder” and “Sparkles” to refer to Thor, she is directly referencing Thor: Ragnarok, and the Grand Master, who (as you know if you’ve seen the movie) nicknames Thor Sparkles and constantly gets his mantle as the God of Thunder wrong.  
> * If you haven’t seen the t-rex memes by now I feel bad for you and also go Google them. You won’t be sorry.
> 
> Alright you guys. Thank you so, so, so much for your support while I pumped this thing out. It means the world to me to know that you all read and -- hopefully -- enjoyed! See you next time, I hope! Cheers!


End file.
